CIHM 
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Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


ml 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  Microreproductioni  /  Inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiont  historiquan 


995 


^sr 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  th?  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 


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Couverture  de  couleur 


j     1     Covers  damaged  / 

' — '     Couverture  endommagee 

I     1     Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 

I     I     Cover  title  missing  /  Le  litre  de  couverture  manque 

I     I     Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 

r^    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 

Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I     I     Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
—      Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I      Bound  with  other  material  / 

nelid  avec  d'autres  documents 


D 
D 


D 


Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajout^s  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  etait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ete  film^es. 


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ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  meth- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiques  ci-dessous. 

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Comprend  du  materiel  suppiementaire 

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—  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc..  ont  ete  filmees 
a  nouveau  de  fapon  a  obtenir  la  meilleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolouralions  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments  / 
Commentalres  supplementaires: 


This  item  is  filmed  it  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filme  >u  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-dessous. 

'0»  14X  MX 


J 


XX 


32X 


EV«, 


m 


Th«  copy  filmtd  her*  hia  bMn  raproducad  thank$ 
to  tht  ganarotity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  fi'm*  tut  raproduit  grtca  k  la 
gtnaroiitt  da: 

Bibliotheque  nationale  du  Canada 


Tha  imagai  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
pOMibIa  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  conwact  apacificationa. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  cowaf  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
aion.  or  tha  bach  cowar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
aion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  mieroflcha 
shall  eonuin  tha  symbol  -^  I  moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  'maaning  "END"). 
whiehavar  applias. 

Maps,  plataa.  charta,  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  ttt  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  al 
da  la  nattatt  da  I'aiiamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformita  avac  laa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  eouvartura  »n 
papiar  aat  imprimaa  soni  filmas  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  »n  tarminant  soit  par  la 
JarniAra  paga  qui  compona  una  amprainta 
d'Imprasaion  ou  d'illuatration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Toua  laa  autras  axamplairaa 
originaux  sont  fllmto  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiara  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration  ai  an  tarminant  pa' 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolaa  auivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darni*ra  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  salon  la 
eas:  la  symbola  —^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symbola  V  signifia  "FIN". 

Laa  cartaa.  planchaa.  tablaaux.  ate,  pauvani  atra 
filmaa  A  das  taux  da  raduction  diffarants. 
Lorsqua  la  doeumant  aat  trap  grand  pour  atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clicha.  il  asi  filma  a  partir 
da  I'angia  supAriaur  gaueha.  da  gaucha  a  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nacasaaira.  Laa  diagrammaa  auivants 
illuatrant  la  mathoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

.W.*  ^^^-iA 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


I  I.I 

1.25  I 


1^  1^ 
[f  IK 


1.6 


^     -APPLIED  IIVMGE 


'65J    East    Main    Street 


t:^        "othester. 


(716)    *82  -  0300  -  Phone 
(716)    ^ee  -  5989  -  Fo. 


The  Crow's- Nest 


1 


li.-: 


The    Oow's-Ncst 


By 
Mrs.    Everard    Cotes 

{Sara  Jtannette  Dunriin) 

Author  of  "An  American  Girl  in  London" 
"A  Sodjl   Departure,"   etc. 


I 


New   York 

Oiniil,  Mcrui   ;in,l   Company 
1901 


fJ/y. 


'/ 


55^26 


(  C^'  '.  ,^ 


C  OP  V   R  :  (.H   I,      1    y  c  1,     h  V 
DODI),     Ml.U)    ,\M1    Loill'ANV 


.^3'^0& 


UNlVERSirV   PRESS    .     lOHN    WILSON 
AND  SUN       .        CAMHRinnE,    U.  S.  A. 


The  CRoir^s-NEsr 


C  H  A  P  T  K  R     I 


THl'.RE    is    an    attraction    about 
carpets   and    curtains,  chairs   and 
sofas,  and  the  mantelpiece  which 
is  hard  to  explain,  and  harder  to 
resist.     I  feel  it  in   all  its   insidious   power 
this  morning  as    I   am   bidding  them   fare- 
well for  a  considerable  time;  I  would   not 
have    believed  that  a  venerable   Axnn-nster 
and    an    arm-chair   on    three    casters    could 
absorb  and  hold  so  much  affection;   verily 
I  thmk,  standing  in  the  door,  it  was  these 
things   that  made  Lot's  wife  turn  her  un- 
lucky head.     Dear  me,  how  they  ente.   in, 
how  they  grow  to  be  part  of  us,  these  ob- 
jects of  ordinary  use  and  comfort   that  we 
place   within    the    four    walls   of   the   little 
shelters    we    build    for   ourselves    on    the 
fickle   round    o'  the  world!     I   .  ave   gone 
back,  I   have  sat  down,  I  will   not   be  de- 
prived of  them ;  they  are  necessary  to  the 


■-..pim'm^^^ 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


courage  with  which  every  one  must  face  life. 
I  will  consider  nothing  without  a  cushion, 
on  the  hither  side  of  the  window,  braced  by 
dear  familiar  book-shelves,  and  the  fender. 
And  Tiglath-l'ileser  has  come,  and  has 
quoted  certain  documents,  and  has  used 
gentle  propulsive  force,  and  behold,  be- 
cause I  am  a  person  whose  contumacy  can- 
not endure,  the  door  is  shut,  and  I  am  on 
the  outside  disconsolate. 

I  would  not  have  more  sympathy  than 
I  can  afterwards  sustain;  I  am  only  ban- 
ished to  the  garden.  But  the  banishment 
is  so  definite,  so  permanent !  Its  terms 
are  plain  to  my  unwilling  glance,  a  long 
cane  deck  chair  anchored  under  a  tree. 
Overhead  the  sky,  on  the  four  sides  the 
sky,  without  a  pattern,  full  of  wind  and 
nothing.  Abroad  the  landscape,  consist- 
ing entirely  of  large  mountains ;  about,  the 
garden.  I  never  regarded  a  garden  with 
more  disfavour.  Here  I  am  to  remain  — 
but  to  remain!  The  word  expands,  you 
will  tind,  as  you  look  into  it.  Man,  and 
especially  woman,  is  a  restless  being,  made 


The  Crow's- Ntst 


to  live   in   houses   roaming  from    room    to 
room,  and  always   staying  for  the  shortest 
time  moreover,   if  you   notic-.-,   in   the  one 
which  is  called  the  garden,     'ihe  subtle  an 
gratifying   law  of  arrangement  that   makes 
the  drawing-room  the  only  proper  place  for 
afternoon    tea    operates   all    throi  ^h.     The 
convenience  of  one  apartment,  the'quiet  of 
another,  the  decoration  of  another  regularly 
appeal  in   turn,  and   there   is  always   one's 
beloved  bed,  for  retirement  when  the  world 
IS  too  much  with  one.     All  this  I  am  com- 
pelled to  resign  for  a  single  fixed  fact  and 
condition,    a    cane    chair   set    in    the    great 
monotony  of  out-of-doors.     My  eye,  which 
is  a  captious  organ,  is  to  find  its  entertain- 
ment all   day  long  in  bushes  —  and  grass. 
All  day  long.     Except  for  meals  it  is  abso- 
lutely laid  down  that   I  am  not  to  "come 
in."     They  have  not  locked  the  doors,  that 
might  have  been  negotiated,  they  have  gone 
and  put  me  on  my  honour.     From  morn- 
mg   until    night    I    am    to   sit   for    several 
months  and  breathe,  with  the  grass  and  the 
bushes,    the    beautiful    pure   fresh    air.      I 


The  Crow's-Nest 


don't  know  why  they  have  not  asked  me 
to  take  root  and  be  done  with  it.  In  vain 
I  have  represented  that  microbes  will  agree 
with  them  no  better  than  with  me ;  it  seems 
the  common  or  house  microbe  is  one  of  the 
things  that  I  particularly  mustn't  have. 
Some  people  are  compelled  to  deny  them- 
selves oysters,  others  strawberries  or  arti- 
chokes ;  my  fate  is  not  harder  than  another's. 
Yet  it  tastes  of  bitterness  to  sit  out  here  in  an 
April  wind  twenty  paces  from  a  door  behind 
which  they  are  enjoying,  in  customary  warmth 
and  comfort,  all  the  microbes  there  are. 

I  have  consented  to  this.  I  have  been 
wrought  upon  certainly,  but  I  have  con- 
sented. For  all  that,  it  is  not  so  simple  as 
it  looks.  It  is  my  occupation  to  write  out 
with  care  and  patience  the  trifles  the  world 
shows  me,  revolving  as  it  does  upon  its  axis 
before  every  intelligent  eye ;  and  I  cannot 
be  divorced  from  all  that  is  upholstered  and 
from  my  dear  occupation  by  the  same  de- 
cree. And  how,  I  ask  you,  how  observe 
life  from  a  cane  chair  under  a  tree  in  a  gar- 
den !     There  is  the  beautiful  pure  fresh  air 


;c ; 


The  Crow's-Nest 


certainly,  and   there  are  the  things  coming 
up.     But   what,    tell    me,   can    you    extract 
from  air  beside  water ;  and  though  a  purely 
vegetable    romance    would    be    a    novelty 
could  I  get  it   published  ?     Tigiath-Pileser 
has  contributed  to  my  difficulty  a  book  of 
reference,  a  volume  upon  the  coleoptera  of 
the  neighbourhood,  and  I  am  to  take  care 
of  It.     I  am  taking  the  greatest  care  of  it, 
but  I  do  not  like  to  hand  it  back  to  him' 
with  the  sentiments  I  feel  in  case  one  fine 
day  I  should  be  reduced  to  coleoptera  and 
thankful  to  get  them. 

Nevertheless  I  have  no  choice,  I  cannot 
:   go  forth  in  the  world's  ways  and  see  what 
people  are  doing  there,  I  must  just  sit  under 
my  tree  and  think  and  consider  upon  the 
current  facts  of  a  garden,  the  bursting  buds 
I   suppose   and   the   following  flowers,  the 
people  who  happen  that  way  and  the  ideas 
the  wind  brings;  the  changes  of  the  seasons 
—  there's   fashion   after   all    in    that— the 
behaviour  of  the  ants    and  earwigs ;   oh,  I 
am  encouraged,  in  the  end  it  will  be  a  novel 
of  manners ! 


'"^i^'W  *'r- 


The  Crow's-Nest 


Bfsides,  there  ought  to  be  certain  virtues, 
if  one  could  find  them,  in  plein  air,  for  scrib- 
bling as  well  as  for  painting.  One's  head 
always  feels  particularly  empty  in  a  garden, 
but  that  is  no  reason  why  one  should  not 
see  what  is  going  on  there,  and  if  one's  im- 
pressions are  a  trifle  incoherent  —  the  wind 
does  blow  the  leaves  about  —  they  will  be 
on  that  account  all  the  more  impressionistic. 

Yet  it  is  not  so  simple  as  it  looks.  In 
such  a  project  everything  depends,  it  will  be 
admitted,  upon  the  garden;  it  must  be  a 
tolerably  familiar,  at  least  a  conceivable  spot. 
The  garden  of  Paradise,  for  instance,  who 
would  choose  it  as  a  point  de  repaire  from 
which  to  observe  the  breed  of  Adam  at  the 
beginning  of  the  twentieth  century  ?  One 
would  be  interrupted  everywhere  by  the 
necessity  of  describing  the  flora  and  fauna ; 
it  would  be  like  writing  a  botany  book  with 
interpolations  which  would  necessarily  seem 
profane;  and  the  whole  thing  would  be 
rejected  in  the  end  because  it  was  not  a 
scientific  treatise  upon  the  origin  of  apples. 
Certainly,  if  one  might  select  one's  plot,  the 


I 


'•■■*^7>«w^''*v 


The  Crow's-Nest 


I 


first  consideration  should  be  the  geographi- 
cal, and  I  am  depressed  to  think  that  my 
garden  is  only  less  remote  than  Eve's.  It 
is  not  an  English  garden  — ah,  the  thought ! 
—  nor  a  French  one  where  they  count  the 
seeds  and  the  windfalls,  nor  an  Italian  one 
sunning  down  past  its  statues  to  the  blue 
Adriatic,  nor  even  a  garden  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Poughkeepsie  where  they  grow 
pumpkins.  Elizabeth  in  her  German  gar- 
den was  three  thousand  miles  nearer  to 
everybody  than  my  cane  chair  is  at  this 
moment.  How  can  I  possibly  expect 
people  to  come  three  thousand  miles  just 
to  sit  and  talk  under  my  pencil  cedar  ?  So 
"long"  an  invitation  requires  such  confi- 
dence, such  assurance  ! 

Who  indeed  should  care  to  hear  about 
every  day  as  it  goes  on  under  a  conifer  in 
a  garden,  when  that  garden  —  let  me  keep 
it  back  no  longer — is  a  mere  patch  on  a 
mountain  top  of  the  Himalayas  ?  Not  even 
India  down  below  there,  grilling  in  the  sun 
which  is  not  quite  warm  enough  here  —  that 
would  be  easy  with  snakes  and  palm-trees 


sMLmi 


8 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


ill 


and    mangoes    and    chutneys    all    growing 
round,  ready  and  familiar;  but  Simla,  what 
is    Simla?      An    artificial    little    community 
which  has  climbed  eight  thousand  feet  out 
of  the  world  to  be  cool.     Who  ever  leaves 
Charing  Cross  for  Simla  ?     Who  among  the 
world's  multitudes  ever  casts  an  eye  across 
the    Rajputana    deserts    to    Simla?      Does 
Thomas  Cook  know  where  Simla  is  ?     No  • 
Simla   is  a  geographical   expression,  to    be 
verified   upon    the   map   and    never   to    be 
thought  of  again,  and  a  garden  in  Simla  is 
a  vague  and  formless  fancy,  a  possibility,  no 
more. 

Yet  people  have  to  live  there,  I  have  to 
live  there;  and  certainly  for  the  next  few 
months  I  have  to  make  the  best  of  it  from 
the  outside.  If  you  ask  yourself  what  you 
really  think  of  a  garden  you  will  find  that 
you  consider  it  a  charming  place  to  go  out 
into.  So  much  I  gladly  admit  if  you  add 
the  retreat  and  background  of  the  house. 
The  house  is  such  an  individual;  such  a 
friend!  Even  in  Simla  the  hous-  offers 
corners   where   may   lurk    the   imagination. 


'^^\ 


< 


The  Crow's-Nest 


nails  on  which  to  hang  a  rag  of  fancy  ;  hut 
m  this  windy  patch  under  the  sky  surrounded 
by  Himalayas,  one  Himalaya  behind  another 
indefinitely,  who  could  find  two  ideas  to  rub 
•ogether  ? 

Also   my  cane   chair   is    becoming   most 
pitiably  weary  ;  it  aches  in  every  limb.     The 
sun  was  poor  and  pale  enough ;  now  it  has 
gone  altogether,  a  greyness  has   blown  out 
of  Thibet,  my  fingers  are  almost  too  numb 
to  say  how  cold  it  is.     The  air  is  full  of  an 
apprehension   of  rain  — if  it  rains   do  you 
.    suppose  I  am  to  come  in.'     indeed  no,  I 
I    am   to    have   an   umbrella.      Uncomfbrted 
I   uncomfortable  fate  !     I  wish  it  would  rain  • 
I    I  could  then  pity  myself  so  profoundly,  so' 
I    abjectly,  I  would  lie  heroic,  still  and  stoic; 
I    and  at  the  appointed  time  I  would  take  my 
:    soaking,  patient  person  into  the  house  with 
I    a      ail   of  drops,  pursued   by   Thisbe  with 
I   hot-water  bottles,  which  I  would  reject,  to 
I   her  greater  compassion  and  more  contrition. 
,   And  in   the  morning  it  would   be  a  queer 
I   thing    if   I    couldn't    produce   rheumatism 
somewhere.     Short  of  rain,  however,  it  will 


lo         The  Crow's-Nest 

be  impossible  to  give  a  correct  and  adequate 
impression  of  the  bald  inhospitality  of  out- 
of-doors.  They  will  think  I  want  to  be 
pitied  and  admired,  and  Thisbe  will  say, 
"But  didn't  you  really  enjoy  it — just  a 
little?" 

Walls  are  necessary  to  human  happiness 
—  that  I  can  asseverate.  Tiglath-Pileser,  in 
bringing  me  to  this  miserable  point,  argued 
that  I  should  experience  the  joys  of  primi- 
tive man  when  he  took  all  nature  for  his 
living-room ;  subtle,  long-lost  sensations 
would  arise  in  me,  he  said,  of  such  a  per- 
suasive character  that  in  the  end  I  should 
have  to  combat  the  temptation  to  take  en- 
tirely to  the  woods.  I  expect  nothing  of 
the  kind.  My  original  nomad  is  too  far 
away,  I  cannot  ^-ympathize  with  him  in  his 
embryotic  preferences  across  so  many  wisest 
centuries.  Moreover,  if  the  poor  barbarian 
had  an  intelligent  ide?  it  was  to  get  under 
shelter,  and  that  is  the  only  one,  doubtless, 
for  which  we  have  to  thank  him. 

The  windows  are  blank;   they  think  it 
kindest,  I  suppose,  not  to  appear  to  find 


i 


The  Crow's-Nest  1 1 

entertainment  in   my  situation.     It  is  cer- 
tainly wisest;  if  Thisbe  showed  but  the  tip 
of  her  pretty  nose   I   should  throw  it  up 
The  windows  are  blank,  the  door  is  shut." 
but  hold  — there  is  smoke  coming  out  of 
the   drawmg-r.om    chimney!      Thisbe    has 
hghted  unto  herself  a  fire  and  is  now  drawn 
up  around  it  awaiting  the  tea-things.     The 
houstf   as  an    ordinary  substantive   is    hard 
enough  to  resist,  but  the-house-with-a-fire ' 
No,  I  cannot.     Besides  it  is  already  half- 
past  four  and  I  was  to  come  in  at  five  to  tea 
I  will  obey  the  spirit  and  scorn  the  letter  of 
the  law  — I  will  go  in  now. 


•t!i»--*B' 


Chapter    II 

A  ROAD     winds     round    the    hill 
above  our  heads;  another  winds 
round  the   hill    below  our  feet  • 
between  is  a  shelf  jutting   out.' 
I  he   principal    object  on   the   shelf  is    the 
house   but  it  also  supports  the  pencil  cedar 
and  the  garden  sits  on  it.  and  at  the  back 
the  servants'  quarters  and  stables  iust  don't 
sl.p  off;  so  that  when  Tiglath-Piieser  walks 
about  ,tw,th  his  hands    in    his   pockets  it 
looks  a  httle  crowde-^..     The  land  between 
the  upper  road  and  the  shelf,  and  the  land 
between   the  shelf  and    the   lower  road   is 
equally  ours,  but   it   is    placed    at  such  an 
abrupt  and  uncompromising  angle  that  we 
do  not  know  any  way  of  taking  possession 
or    It.      By   surface    measurement   we   are 
doubtless  large  proprietors,  but  as  the  crow 
Hies   we    are    distinctly   over-taxed.      This 
slantmg  hill-side  is  called  the  khud  ;  there 


The  Crow's-Nest 


[3 

is  no  real  property  in  a  khud.     One  always 
thinks  of  town  lots  as  flat  and  running  from 
the  front  street  to  the  back,  with   suitable 
exposure  for  the  washing,     h  just  depends. 
This  one  stands  on  end,    you  could  easily 
send   a  stone  rolling   from  the  front  street 
into   the    back,   if   you    knew    which    was 
which ;  and  there  would  be  rather  too  much 
exposure  for  the  washing.     If  you  like  you 
can  lean  up  against  the  khud,  but  that  is  the 
only  way  of  asserting   your  title-deed,  and 
tew  people  consider  it  worth  doing.     I  may 
say  that  as  soon  as  you  tilt  your  property 
out  c^  the  horizontal  you  lose  control  over 
It.     Things  come  up  on  it  precisely  as  they 
like,  in  tufts,  in  suckers  and  in  every  vulgar 
manner,  secure  and    defiant    it   rises  above 
your   head.      Tiglath-Pileser    and    I    have 
sought  diligently,  with  ladders,  for  some  way 
of  bringing  our  khud  into  subjection,  but  in 
vain.     As  he  says  we  might  paper  it,  but  as  I 
say  there  are  some  things  which  persons  who 
derive  their  income  from  current  literature 
".imply  can  m  aflx,rd.     So   we  are  content 
perforce  to  look  at  it  and  "  call  it  ours  "  as 


^MT'^. 


'4         The  Crow's-Nest 

ch'dren  are  sometimes  allowed  by  their 
elders  to  do.  The  khud  is  God's  property 
but  we  call  it  ours.  Trees  grow  on  it  and 
It  makes  a  more  agreeable  background,  after 
all,  than  other  people's  kitchens. 

Beyond  the  shelf  the  hill-side  slopes  clear 
from  the  upper  road  to  the  lower,  a  stretch 
of  mdefimte  jungle  which  flourishes,  no  man 
aiding  or  forbidding.     We  have  sometimes 
looked  at  It  vaguely  and  thought  of  potatoes, 
but  have  always  decided  that  it  was  useful 
enough  and  much  less  troublesome  as  part 
of  the  landscape.     The  other  day  the  law 
threatened    us   if    Tiglath-Pileser    did    not 
forthwith    declare    his    boundaries    in    that 
direction,  and  he  has  since  been  going  about 
with  a  measuring-chain  and  a  great  pretence 
of  accuracy  ;  but  it  is  my  private  belief  that 
neither  he  nor  his  neighbour  will  be  equal  to 
the  demand.     They  had  better  agree  quickly 
and  hatch  a  friendly  deposition  together,  and 
so  escape  whatever  penalty  the  law  awards 
tor  not  knowing  where  your  premises  leave 
off.       Meanwhile  the  wild  cherry  and   the 
unkempt  rhododendron  grow  in  one  accord 


i 


f  The  C.  )vv's-Ncst 

indirf-erent   to    these   foolish    claims.      Such 
IS  ownership  in  a  khud. 

Our  domain  therefore  is  spread  out  about 
s  much  as  .t  would  hang  from  a  clothes- 

h    '  hi'.       .  m"'^  P'"  ^•^  '•^^'"y  inhabit  is 
he  shelf.      All  this   by  way   of  informing 

you  honestly  that  the  garden  in  which  you 
are  mv.ted  to  lighten  so  many  long  hour" 

for   me  ,s  no  great  place.     Here  and  now 

I    abjure   invention   and    ideali^ation ;    you 

a      have  just   what    happens,  just   wLt 

there  is,  and  it  won't  be  much.     Pot-luck 

a~herf"rr^"^'"°''  from  a  garden  on 
a  shelf     I  must   admit  that  before   I    wa, 

turned  out  to  grow  in  it  myself  I  thought  it 
well  enough,  bu-.  now  I  regard  it  critiL 
ke   he  other  plants.     We  might  do  bette 
an  of  us.  under  more  favourable  conditions. 

oTthr7^'"r""'"''"°"^'y'  ^°^  °"«  thing, 
of  the  lack  of  room.     Cramped  we  are  to 

for  the  paling  that  runs  along  the  edge  and 
keeps  us  all  in.  I  suppose'  nobody  ever 
believed  that  his  lot  gave  him  proper  scope 
for  his  activities  in   this  world' but  I    ca„ 


If 


1 6  The  Crow's- Nest 


testify  that  the  wisteria  which  twines  over  the 
paling  is  pushing  a  middle-aged  hibiscus  bush 
down  the  khud,  while  I,  sitting  here,  elbow 
them  both,  and  a  honeysuckle,  climbing  up 

im  below  has  to  cling  with  both  hands  to 
hold  on.  If  I  invite  a  friend  to  take  a  walk 
in  my  garden  I  must  go  in  front  declaiming 
and  he  must  come  behind  assenting;  we 
cannot  waste  space  on  mere  paths,  and  none 
of  them  are  wide  enough  for  two  people  to 
walk  abreast,  except  the  main  one  to  the 
door,  which  had  to  be  on  account  of  the 
rickshaws.  As  it  is,  pansies,  daisies  and 
other  small  objects  constantly  slip  over  the 
edge  and  hang  there  precariously  attached 
by  the  slenderest  root  of  family  affection 
for  days.  We  are  all  convinced  in  this 
garden,  that  for  expansion  one  would  not 
choose  a  she.f,  and  that  applies  in  quite  a 
ridiculous  way  to  Simla  itself,  though  per- 
haps it  is  hardly  worth  while,  out  here  in 
the  sun,  to  write  an  essay  to  explain  '•xactly 
how. 

I  would   not  show  myself  of  a  ch  irlish 
mind ;  the  day  is  certainly  fine,  as  fine  a  day 


J. 

i 


--m.^?-*.. 


^'^W'-Hi 


.•«. 


*T 


The  Crow's- Nest 


>7 


as  you  could  be  ajinpcllcj  to  sit  out  in.     A 
week  has  passed  sinci;  I  lent  myself  to  he  a 
j    spectacle  of  domestic  tyranny  and  modern 
i    science,  and   I   hasten  to  announce  that  al- 
though I  want  to  eat  more  and  to  go  to  bed 
earlier  I  am  not  at  all  better.     I  have  let  the 
week  go  by  without  taking  any  notice  of  it  in 
this  journal  under  the  impression  that  it  was 
not  worth   the  pains,  as  they  say  in  France. 
It  was  douh-V-ss  a  wonderful  week  in  nature 
l.ut  which  of  the  fifty-two  is  not?  and  being 
ccrtam  that  my  fountain  pen  would  be  any- 
thmg  but  a  source  of  amiability,  I  left  it  in 
the  house.     Moreover,  there  is  something 
not  quite  proper,  one  finds,  in  confiding  an 
experience  of  personal  discomfort,  undergone 
with  the  object  of  improving  one's  health, 
to  the  printed  page;   it  is  akin  to  lending 
one's   maladies   to  an   advertiser  of  patent 
medicines,  and  tends  to  give  light  literature 
too  much  the  character  of  a  human  document. 
Also,  to  look  back  upon,  the  late  week  holds 
little  but  magnificent  resolution  and  the  sen- 
sation  of  cold  feet.     All  that  need  be  said 
about  It  is  that  I  have  at  last  arrived  at  the 


IJ  :  I 


r» 


';i('i 


i8 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


I 


end  of  it,  full  of  fortitude  and  resignation. 
I  am  not  at  all  better,  but  I  am  resigned  and 
prepared  to  go  on,  if  it  is  required  of  me, 
and  it  seems  likely  to  be.  In  fact  it  appears 
to  have  occurred  to  nobody  but  myself  that 
there  was  anything  experimental  about  this 
period.  The  whole  summer  is  to  be  the  ex- 
periment, I  am  told,  as  often  as  if  they  were 
addressing  the  meanest  intelligence,  which  is 
not  the  case. 

My  sensibilities  no  doubt  are  becoming 
slightly  blunted.  A  whole  week  without  a 
roof  over  one's  head  except  at  night  would 
naturally  have  that  tendency.  I  find  that 
I  am  no  longer  a  prey  to  the  desire  to  go 
in  and  look  at  something  in  the  last  number 
of  'The  Studio,  and  the  more  subtly  tormented 
of  modern  novelties  fails  to  hold  my  atten- 
tion for  more  than  half-an-hour  at  a  time. 
The  spirit  in  my  feet  that  would  carry  me 
indoors  has  still  to  be  bound  down,  but  it 
has  grown  vague  and  purposeless  and  might 
lead  me  anywhere,  even  to  the  kitchen  to 
see  if  the  cook  is  keeping  his  saucepans 
clean,  the  most  detestable  responsibility  of 


The  Crow's- Nest 


'9 


my  life.  Now  that  I  am  a  close  prisoner 
outside  the  house,  by  the  way,  it  shall  be 
delegated  to  Thisbe.  That  is 'no  more  than 
right. 

It  was  not  worse  than   I  expected,  and  it 
was  a  little  less  bad,  let  me  confess,  than  I 
described  it  to  my  family.      I  can  now  sym- 
pathize   with    the    youthful    knight   of 'the 
middle  ages  at  the  end  of  his   first  night's 
ghostly  vigil  in  the  sanctuary,  —  if  the^rest 
are  no   worse  than    this    they    can    be    got 
through    with.      I    am    certainly    on    better 
terms  with  nature,  as  he  was  on  better  terms 
with  the  skeleton  in  the  vault,  apprehending 
with  him  in  that  neither  of  them  was  really 
calculated  to  do  us  any  harm.      He  no  douli't 
lost  his  superstitions  as  I  am  losing  my  finer 
feelings ;    whether  one   is    sufficiently'  com- 
pensated for  them  by  a  vulgar  appetite  and 
a  tendency  to  drowsiness  immediately  after 
dinner  is  a  question  I  should  like  to  discuss 
with  him. 

For  one  thing  I  am  beginning  to  make 
acquaintance  with  the  Days  and  to  know 
them  apart,  not  merely  as  sunny  days,  dull 


■■I' 


Vii' 


20  The  Crow's-Nest 

days,  windy  days  and  wet  days,  as  they  are 
commonly  unobserved  and  divided,  but  in 
tiie  full  and  abundant  personality  which 
every  one  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  offers  to  the  world  that  rolls  under  it. 
To  me  also,  a  very  short  tiaie  ago,  the  day 
was  a  convenient  arrangement  for  making 
things  visible  outside  the  house,  accompanied 
by  agreeable  or  disagreeable  temperatures  ;  a 
mere  condition  rr  onotonously  recurrent  and 
quite  subordinated  to  engagements.  To  live 
out  here  enveloped  by  it,  dependent  on  it, 
in  a  morning-to-night  intimacy  with  it,  is  to 
know  better.  The  Day  is  a  great  elemental 
creature  left  in  charge  of  the  world  for  as 
long,  every  twenty-four  hours,  as  she  can  see 
it.  No  one  day  is  the  same  as  another ; 
those  of  the  same  season  have  only  a  family 
likeness.  They  express  character  and  tem- 
perament, like  people,  and  if  you  elect  to  live 
with  them,  to  throw  yourself,  as  it  were,  upon 
their  better  nature  with  no  other  protection 
than  an  umbrella,  it  just  makes  all  the  differ- 
ence. Some  were  tender  and  sweet-tempered, 
I  remember,  some  were  thoughtful,  with  a 


The  Crow's-Nest 


21 


touch  of  gloom,  one  was  artist  with  a  firm 
hand  and  a  splendid  palette.     And  among 
all  the  seven  I  did  not  dislike  a  single  Day, 
which  is  remarkable  when  one  thinks  of  the 
abuse  one  is  so  apt  to  let  fall,  from  the  inside 
of  a  window,  about   ,.hat  our  common  little 
brains    call    "the   weather."     There    is    no 
weather,   it  is   a  poor    and   pointless  term, 
there  is  only  the  mood  of  a  day,  and   how- 
ever badly  it  may  serve  our  paltry  ends  it  is 
bound  at  least  to  be  interesting.     When  one 
reflects  upon   how  little  this  great  thing  is 
regarded  and  how  constantly   from   behind 
glass,  by  miserable  men,  one  is  touched  with 
pity    for    the   ingratitude    of  the    race,  and 
astonishment   at    the    amount    of  personal 
superiority  to  be  acquired  in  a  week.      Day 
unto  day  uttereth  speech,  swinging  a  lantern  ; 
it  is  the  business  of  night  to  wait.    Day  after 
day,  too  spiritual  to  be  pagan,  too  sensuous 
to  be  divine,  speeds  out  of  time  into  the 
eternity  where  planets  are  served  in   turn. 
Behold,  in  spite  of  all  their  science,  I   show 
you  a  mystery,  high  and  strange  whether  the 
sun  is  in  his  tabernacle  or  the  clouds  are  on 


2  2  The  Crow's- Nest 


the  hills.  But  it  is  there  always,  you  ■  an  see 
it  for  yourself.  Go  out  into  the  garden,  not 
for  a  stroll,  but  for  a  day. 

'I"he  week  has  brought  me  —  and  how  can 
I  be  too  grateful  —  a  new  and  personal  feel- 
ing about    this    exquisite  thing  that  passes. 
Waking  in  the  blackness  of  the  very  small 
hours    I    find    a    delicate   gladness    in    the 
thought  of  the   far  sure   wing  of  the  day. 
Already  while  we  lie  in  the  dark  it  brushes 
the  curve  of  the  world  in  that  far  East  which 
is  so  much  farther,  already  on  a  thousand 
slopes  and  rice  fields  the  grey  dawn  is  be- 
gmning,  beginning;   and  sleeping  huts  and 
silent  palaces  stand  emergent,  marvellously 
pathetic  to  the  imagination.     Even  while   I 
think,  it  is  crisping  the  sullen  waves  of  the 
Yellow  Sea;  presendy  some  ortlying  reef  of 
palms  will  find  its  dim  picture  drawn,  and  then 
we  too,  high  in  the  middle  of  Hindostan,  will 
swing  under  this  vast  and  solemn  operation. 
With  that  precision  which  reigns  in  heaven 
our  turn  will  also  come,  and  in  my  garden 
and  over  the  hills  will  walk  another  day. 


Ch  A 


P  T  E  R     III 


THERE    is   a    right    side    and   a 
wrong  side  to  the  mountain  of 
Simla,  for  it  was  a  mountain  eight 
thousand  feet  high   and  equally 
important  long  before  it  became  the  summer 
headquarters  cf  the  Government  of  India, 
and  a  possible  pin-point  on  the  map.     These 
mountains  run  across  the  tip  of  India,  you 
will  remember,  due  east  and  west,  so  that  if 
you  live  on  one  of  them  you  are  very  apt  to 
live  due  north  or  .outh.     On  the  south  side 
you  look  down,  on  a  clerr  day,  quite  to  the 
plains,  if  that  is  any  advantage;  you  see  the 
Punjab   lying  there   as  flat  as  the  palm  of 
your  hand  and  streaked  with  rivers,  and  the 
same  sun  that  burns  all   India  bakes  down 
upon    you.     On   the    north   side   you   have 
turned  your  back  on  Hindostan  and  sit  upon 
the  borders  of  Thibet,  a  world  of  mountains 
bars  your  horizon,  a  hermit  Mahatma  might 


-i 


^4         The  Crovv's-Nest 

abide  with  you  in   his  ashes  and  have  his 
meditations    disturbed    by    no    thought   of 
missinnanes  or  income  tax.     Your  piospect 
IS  all  blue  and  purple  with  a  wonderful  edge 
sometimes  of  white;  cool  winds  blow  out  of 
It  and  fan  your  roses  on   the   hottest  day 
Out  there  is  no-man's-land,  where  the  coolies 
come  from,  or  perhaps  the  country  of  a  little 
king  who  wears  his  crown  embroidered  on 
his  turban,  and  in  India  who  recks  of  little 
kings?     Out  there   are  no   Secretariats,  no 
Army  Headquarters,  no  precedence,  prob- 
ably very  little  pay,  but  the  vast  blue  free- 
dom of  it!     And  all  expanded,  all  extended 
just  at  your  front  door.     *     *     *     *     ♦ 

The  asterisks  stand  for  the  time  I  have 
spent  in  looking  at  it.  Freely  translated 
they  should  express  an  apology.  I  find  it 
one  of  the  pernicious  tendencies  of  living  on 
this  shelf  that  my  eyes  constantly  wander 
out  there  taking  my  mind  with  them,  which 
at  once  becomes  no  more  than  a  vacant 
mirror  of  blue  abysses.  I  look,  I  know 
jmmensely  serious  and  thoughtful,  and 
liiisbe,   believing  me   on   the  tip    of  some 


i 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


high  imagination  goes  round  the  other  wav 
whereas  I  am  the  merest  reflecting  puddle' 
with   exact  y  a  puddle's   enjoyment  of  the 
scene.      There    is  neither  virtue  nor  profit 
■n  th,s,  but  if  I  apologized  every  time  I  did 
It  these  chapters  would  be  impassable  with 
astensks      Thisbe's  method  is  much   more 
reasonable;  she  takes  her  view  immediately 
after  she  takes  her  breakfast.     Coming  out 
upon    the  verandah  she   looks  at  it  intelli- 
gently    pronounces   it    perfectly    lovely    or 
rather    hazy,  returns    to  her    employments, 
I     and   there  ,s  an   end   to   the   matter.     One 
j     cannot  always,  in  Thisbe's  opinion,  be  refer- 
ring to  views.     I  wish   I  could  adopt   this 
calm  and  governed  attitude.     I  should  get 
on  faster   in  almost   every  way.     It  is  L 
■gnomm.ous    alternative    to   turn    my    back 
upon  the  prospect  and  look  up  the  khud 

Into  my  field  of  vision  comes  Atma,  do- 
ing something  to  a  banksia  rose-bush  that 
chmbs  over  a  little  arbour  erected  across  a 
path  apparently  for  the  convenience  of  the 
banksia  rose-bush.  Atma  would  tell  you 
protector  of  the  poor,  that  he  is  the  gardener 


26 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


of  this  place  ;  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  relation 
to  it  is  that  of  tutelary  deity  and  real  pro- 
prietor. I  have  talked  in  as  large  a  way  as 
if  it  belonged  to  Tiglath-Pileser  because  he 
pays  for  the  repairs,  but  I  should  have  had 
the  politeness  at  least  to  mention  Atma, 
whose  claims  are  so  much  better.  So  far  as 
we  are  concerned  Atma  is  prehistoric;  he 
was  here  when  we  came  and  when  we  have 
completed  the  tale  of  one  years  of  exile  and 
gone  away  he  will  also  be  here.  His  hut  is 
at  the  very  end  of  the  shelf  and  I  have  never 
been  in  it,  but  if  you  asked  him  how  long 
he  has  lived  there  he  would  say,  "  Always." 
It  must  make  very  litde  difference  to  Atma 
what  temporary  lords  come  and  give  orders 
in  the  house  with  the  magnificent  tin  roof 
where  they  have  table-cloths ;  some,  of 
course,  are  more  troublesome  than  others, 
but  none  of  them  stay.  He  and  his  bulbs 
and  perennials  are  the  permanent  undisputed 
facts ;  it  is  unimaginable  that  any  of  them 
should  be  turned  out. 

I   am  more   reconciled  to   my  fate  when 
Atma    is    in    the   garden,   he    is    something 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^1 


human  to  look  at  and  to  consider,  and  he 
noves  with  such  calm  wisdom  among  the 
plants.     He  has  a  short  black  curling  beard 
that  grows  almost  up    to    his   high   cheek- 
bones, and  soft  round  brown  eyes  full  of 
guileless  cunning,  and  a  wide  and  pleasant 
smile.     He  >s  just  a  gentle  hill-man  and  by 
rehgmn    a    gardener,    but    with    his    turban 
twisted  low  and  flat  over  his  ears  he  might 
'     He  any  of  the  Old  Testament  characters  one 
remembers  in  the  pictured  Bible  stories  of 
one  s  childhood.     Something  primitive  and 
natural  about  him  binds  him  closely  to  Adam 
>n   my   mmd      It  was   with   this   simplicity 
and  pat-ence,   I  am  sure,  that   the  original 
cultivator  tied  up  his  banksias  and  saved  his 
portulaca  and  mignonette  after  the  fall,  when 
he  had  something  to  do  beside  come  to  his 
meals.     I  am  not  the  only  person;  every- 
body to  whom  it  is  pointed  out  notices  at 
once  how  remarkably  Atma  takes  after  the 
father  of  us  all.      I  have  often  wished  to  call 
him  Adam  because  of  his  so  peculiarly  de- 
serving   it;     but    Tiglath-Pileser    says  '  that 
profane  persons,  knowing  that  he  could  not 


f.  '■^'-t. 


28 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


II 


I     i 


:i . ;'! 


have  received  the  name  at  his  baptism,  might 
laugh  and  thus  hurt  his  feelings.  So  he  is 
Atma  still.     It  is  near  enough. 

He  is  also  patriarchal  in  his  ideas.  This 
morning  he  came  to  us  upon  the  business 
of  Sropo.  Sropo,  he  said,  wished  for  six 
days'  leave  in  order  to  marry  himself. 
"But,"  said  I,  "this  is  not  at  all  proper. 
Sropo  went  away  last  year  to  marry  himself. 
How  shall  Sropo  have  two  wives?  " 

"  Na,"  replied  Atma,  with  his  kindly 
smile,  "  that  was  Masuddi.  Masuddi  has 
now  a  wife  and  a  son  has  been,'  and  his 
wages  are  so  much  the  less.  Also  without 
doubt  this  Sropo  could  not  have  two  wives." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Tiglath-Pileser, 
virtuously. 

"  Sropo  is  of  my  village,"  Atma  explained, 
genially,  "  and  we  folk  are  all  poor  men. 
More  than  one  wife  cannot  be  taken.  But 
if  we  were  rich  like  the  Presence,"  he  went 
on,  gravely,  '■  we  would  have  five  or  six." 

Tiglath-Pileser  shook  his  head.  "You 
would  be  sorry,"  said  he.     "It  would  be  a 

'  Literally  ;  "has  been  finished." 


:  i 


The  Crow's-Ncst         29 


mistake,"  but  only  I  saw  the  ambiguity  in  his 
eye. 

"  It  is  not  your  Honour's  custom,"  re- 
turned Atma.simply.  "Sropo,then,  willgo?" 
"Call     Masuddi,"    said    Tiglath-Pileser. 
"It  is  a  serious  matter,  this  of  wives." 

Round  the  corner  of  the  verandah  came 
Masuddi,  shy  and  broadly  smiling,  with  an 
end  of  his  cotton  shirt  in  the  corner  of  his 
mouth  and  pulling  at  it,  as  other  kinds  of 
children  pull  at  their  pinafores. 

"Masuddi,"  said  Tiglath-Pileser,  "last 
year  you  made  a  marriage  in  your  house, 
and  now  you  have  a  son.  Er  —  which 
young  woman  did  you  marry  ?  " 

Masuddi's  smile  broadened  ;  he  cast  down 
his  eyes  and  scrabbled  the  gravel  about  with 
his  foot.     "  Tuktoo,"  he  said  shamefacedly. 
"  Well,  there  is  no  harm  in  that.     What 
is  the  name  of  your  son  ?  " 

Masuddi  looked  up  intelligently.  "  How 
should  he  have  a  name  ?  "  he  asked.  "  He  has 
not  yet  four  months.  He  came  with  the  snow. 
When  he  has  a  year,  then  he  will  get  a  name. 
My  padre-folk  —  Erahmun  —  will  give  it." 


3° 


The  Crow's- Nest 


"  Hut  you  will  say  what  it  is  tu  he,"  I 
put  in. 

"  Nil,"  said  Masuddi,  "  the  padre-folk  will 
say  —  to  thtir  liking." 

"  Masuddi,"  said  Tiglath-I'ilcscr,  "  speak 
straight  words  —  do  you  l)e:it  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Master,"  replied  Masuddi,  "  how  shall 
I  urter  false  talk.'  When  she  will  not  hear 
orders  I  beat  lier." 

"Masuddi,"  said  I,  "straight  words  — 
do  you  beat  her  with  a  stick  ?  "  Laughter 
rose  up  in  him,  and  again  he  chewed  the 
end  of  his  garment.  "  According  as  my 
anger  is,"  he  said,  half  turning  away  to  hide 
his  face,   '  so  I  beat  her." 

"  Then  she  obeys  ?  " 

"  Then  fear  is  and  she  listens.  Thus  it 
is,"  said  Masuddi,  his  face  clearing  to  an 
idea,  "as  we  servant-folk  are  before  your 
Honours,  so  they-folk  are  before  us." 

"  You  may  go,  worthy  Masuddi,"  pro- 
nounced Tiglath-Pileser,  "and  Atma  may 
say  to  Sropo,  who  is  listening  behind  the 
water-barrel,  that  I  have  heard  the  words 
of  Masuddi  and  they  are  just  and   reason- 


The  Crow's- Nest 


3' 


■Mv,  and  he  may  go  also  and  marry  himself 
l.ut  It  must  be  done  in  six  days,  and  it  must 
not  occur  again." 

Masuddi  and  Sropo  are   two  of  the  fo-.r 
who  pull   my   rickshaw.      When    I    am    not 
t:ikmg  carriage  exercise  they  viH  do  almost 
anythmg    else,  except    sew  or   cook,   hut   I 
have  discovered    that  the  thing  they  rcallv 
love  to  be  set  at  is  to  paint.      In  the  sprinir 
the  palmg  required  a  fresh  brown  coat,  and 
m  a  moment  of  inspired  economy  I  decided 
that    Masuddi  and   his   men  should  be  en- 
trusted with  it.     Never  w.is  task  more  will- 
ingly   undertaken.     With    absorption    they 
mixed   the   pigment   and   thewi-oil,   squeez- 
ing It  with  their  hands ;  with  joy  they  laid 
It   on,    competing   among    themselves,   like 
Tom    Sawyer's    schoolfellows.     "  Lo    it   is 
beautiful!"    Masuddi    would    exclaim    after 
each  brushful,  drawing  back  to  look  at  it. 
I  think  they  were  sorry  when  it  was  done. 

Atma  is  of  these  people,  and  the  two 
grooms,  and  Dumboo,  the  upper  house- 
maid, a  strapping  treasure  six  feet  in  his 
stockings.     I  would  like  it  better  if  all  our 


1 


32 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


servants  were,  but  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive Sropo  doing  up  muslin  frills  —  at 
least  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  frills  — 
and  I  could  not  ask  people  to  eat  entrees 
sent  up  by  any  friend  of  Masuddi's.  I  ad- 
mit they  do  not  altogether  adapt  themselves, 
or  even  wash  themselves.  I  have  before 
now  locked  Masuddi  and  the  others  up 
with  a  tub  and  a  bar  of  kitchen  soap  and 
instructions  of  the  most  general  nature,  de- 
manding, on  their  release,  to  see  the  soap. 
It  was  the  only  reliable  evidence.  Besides 
if  I  had  not  required  to  see  my  soap,  worn 
by  honest  service,  they  would  have  sold  it 
and  bought  sweetmeats  and  gone  none  the 
cleaner.  They  have  many  such  little  ways, 
which  few  people  I  know  consider  as  en- 
gaging as  I  do.  But  what  I  like  best  is 
their  lightheartedness  and  their  touch  of 
fancy.  Sropo  will  go  to  his  nuptials  with 
a  rose  behind  his  ear  —  where  in  my  bar- 
barous West  does  a  young  man  choose  to 
approach  the  altar  thus  ?  and  when  Masuddi 
courted  Tuktoo  upon  the  mountain  paths 
in   the   twilight    I    think  a   shy  idyll    went 


The  Crow's-Nest 


33 

barefoot    between    them;    thoug.    i,e    die 
male  creature,  would  make  shame  of  it 'now 
prefernng  to  speak  of  sticks  and  of  obedi- 
e.Ke.     They  are   the  young  of  the  world. 
these  hill  sons  and  daughters,  and  they  still 
remember  how  the  earth  they  are  made  of 
st.rs  ,n    the  spring.     It  is   late  evening  in 
my  garden  now -there  has  seemed,  some- 
how no  good  reason  to  go  in,  though  one 
new  leaf  m  the  borders  has  long  been  just 
l.ke  another -and    far  down    the    khud    I 
hear  a  playmg  upon  the  flute.     It  is  a  frag- 
mentary air  but  vigorous  and  sweet,  and  it 
bnngs  me,  dropping  through  the  vast  and 
purple    spaces    of    the   evening,    the    most 
charmmg  sensation.     For  it  is  not  a  Secre- 
tary to  the  Government  of  India  who  per- 
forms, nor  any  member  of  the  choir  invisible 
that  smgs  hosannas  over  there  to  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief, but  a  simple  hill-man  who 
would  make  a  melody  because  it  is  spring, 
and  he  has  percha.ice  been  given  leave   to 
go  and  marry  himself. 


.<c:>'' 


t,     F* 


Chapter    IV 


PEOPLE  are  often  removed  from 
their  proper  social  spheres  in  this 
world  and  placed  in  others  which 
they  think  lower  and  generally 
less  worthy  of  them.  Their  distant  and 
haughty  behaviour  under  these  circum- 
stances is  rather,  I  am  afraid,  like  my  own 
conduct  at  present,  down  in  the  world  as  I 
am  and  reduced  to  the  society  of  a  garden. 
I,  too,  have  been  looking  about  me  with 
contemptuous  indifference,  returning  no 
visits,  though  quantities  of  things  have  been 
coming  up  to  see  me,  and  perpetually  refer- 
ring to  the  superior  circles  I  moved  in  when 
I  knew  better  days  and  went  out  to  dinner. 
You  may  notice,  however,  that  such  per- 
sons generally  end  by  condescending  to  the 
simpler  folk  they  come  to  live  among ;  it  is 
dull  work  subsisting  upon  the  most  glorious 
reminiscences  and  much  wiser  to  become  the 


The  Crow's-Nest 


shining  ornament  of  the  more  limited  sphere 
to  which  one  may  be  transferred.     That  is 
the  course  I  am  considering,  for  whom  cards 
of  mvitation  are  dead  letters,  and  to  whom 
the  gay  world  up  here  will  soon  refer  I  have 
no  doubt,  as  the  late  Mrs.  Tigkth-Pileser 
wno  chose  so  singularly  to  bestow  her  re- 
mains in  a  garden,  though   I  am  really  alive 
and  flourishing  there.     I  can  never  be  the 
shining    ornament   of  my   garden    because 
nature  mtended  otherwise  and  there  is  too 
much    competition,  but  I  may   be    able  to 
exert  an  improving  influence.     It  is  not  im- 
possible, either,  that  I  may  find  the  horti- 
cultural   class   about   me   more   interesting 
than  I  find  myself.     I  have  been  accustomed 
to  speak  with  quite  the  ordinary  contempt 
of  persons  who  have  "no  resources  within 
themselves  "-in  future  I  shall  have  more 
sympathy    and    less    ridicule    for   such       I 
should  rather  like  to  know  what  one  is  ex- 
pected to  possess  in  the  way  of  «  resources  " 
tucked  away  in  that  vague  interior  which  we 
are  asked  to  believe  regularly  pigeon-holed 
and  alphabetically  classified.     We  do  believe 


36 


The  Crow's-Nest 


i 

m 


.if' 


it  —  by  an  effort  of  the  imagination  —  but 
only  try,  on  a  fine  day  out-of-doors,  to  rum- 
mage there.  Your  boasted  :.rain  is  a  per- 
fect rag-bag,  a  waste-paper  basket,  a  bran  pie 
from  which  you  draw  at  hazard  an  article 
value  a  penny-ha'penny.  This  is  disap- 
pointing and  humiliating  when  both  you 
and  your  family  believe  that  you  have  only 
to  think  in  order  to  be  quite  indifferent  to  the 
world  and  vastly  entertained.  "  Resources  " 
somehow  suggests  the  things  one  has  read, 
and  I  know  I  depended  largely  upon  certain 
poets,  not  one  of  whom  will  come  near  me 
unless  I  go  personally  and  bring  him  from 
the  bookshelves  in  his  covers.  Pope  for 
one  —  why  Pope  I  cannot  say,  unless  be- 
cause he  would  blink  and  cough  and  be 
fundamentally  miserable  in  a  garden  —  great 
breadths  of  Pope  I  thought  would  visit  me 
in  quotation.  Not  a  breadth.  Immortals 
of  earlier  and  later  periods  are  equally  shy ; 
I  catch  at  their  fluttering  garments  and  they 
are  off,  leaving  a  rag  in  my  hand.  Only 
that  agreeable  conceit  of  Marveil's  comes 
and  stays. 


^ 


Tf\  ?'.s^li.^. 


Ka 


% 


"Annihilating  all  that's  made 
To  a  green  thought  in  a  green  shade." 

and  I  am  ashamed  to  look  it  m  the  face - 
i  have  positively  worked  it  to  death 

Apply  within  for  lofty  sentim.nts'or  pro- 
fund  conclusions,  the  result  is  the  same- 
these  things  fly  the  ardent  seeker  and  on  v' 
appear  when  you  are  not  looking  for  them 

weet     H  ^         1  '"  °P''"'^'''  y°"  held  last 
week,  a  desire  to  know  what  time  it  ,s.     Mv 

-grettable  experience  is  that  you  can  explore 
the  recesses  of  your   soul    out-of-doors    i^ 

n>uch,e.thanaweekifyouputyourm;d 

f^fiouid  nnd  so  little  there. 

"Vou  beat  you.  pate  and  fancy  wit  will  come; 
Knock  as  you  please,  there 's  nobody  at  hom^.'. 

Dear  me,  there's  Mr.  Pope,  and  very  much 
.usual,  to  the  point!     No,  resources  are 
h.«gs  you  can  lay  your  hands  upon,    „d 

J- come  to  believe  that  they  arLliTn  the 
Everything  is  up  and  showing,  the  garden 


38 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


m 


is  green  with  promise,  but  very  few  things 
are  quite  ready  for  my  kind  advances ;  very 
few  things  are  out.     What  a  pretty  idea,  oy 
the  way,  in  that  common  little  word  as  the 
flowers  use  it !     Out  of  the  damp  earth  and 
the  green  sheath,  out  into  the  sun  with  the 
others,  out  to  meet  the  bees  and  to  snub  the 
beetles,  —  oh,     out !     When     young    girls 
emerge  into  the  world  they  too  are  "  out " 
—  the  word  was  borrowed,  of  course,  from 
fhe  garden  ;  its  propriety  is  plain.     Thisbe, 
I   remember,  is  out  this  season ;  but  I   do 
not  see  anything  in  the  borders  exactly  like 
Thisbe.     Doubtless  later  on  her  prototype 
will  come,  in  June  I  think,  unfolding  a  pink 
petal-coat.     There  is  no  hurry  ;  it  is  yet  only 
the  second  week  in    April  and  these  grey 
mountains  are  still  delicate  and  dim  under 
the  ideal  touch  of  the  wild  apricot  and  plum. 
The  borders  may   be  empty,   but  there  is 
sweet  vision  to  be  had  by  looking  up,  and 
just  a  hint  of  nature's  possible  purposes  with 
a  khud.     It  now  occurs  to  me   that  there 
ought  to  be  clouds  and  clouds  of  this  pink 
and  white  blossoming  all  about  the  house, 


R.-.**!'* 


'I 


The  Crow's-Nest 


39 

behind  as  well  as  before,  on  each    of  our 
several  declivities,  -  there  ought  to  be  and 
^     ''^"e"  not.     I  remember  now  why  there  is 
'     Tu  o?"^  ""P  """'"'"g  '^'^^  ='"'"'""  Tie- 
Iath-P,leser  who  is  a  practical  person,  wis 
struck  by  the  fact,  though  it  is  not  a  new 
one,  that  w,ld  fruit  trees  may  be  made  to 
cultivate  fru,t  by  the  process  of  grafting,  and 
announced    h.s    intention    to   graft    largelv. 
Thmk       sa>d  he,  "of  the  satisfaction  of 
bemg  able  to  write  home  to  England  that 
you  are  gathering  from  your  own  trees  quan- 
tities of  the  greengages  wliich  they  pay  ten- 
pence  a  pound    for   and  place  carefully  in 
tarts !  •' 

The  proceeding  had  not  my  approval.    It 

7Ztu    Z  ''^'  ''  "°"'''  ''^  ^  g-'l  'leal 
of  trouble  and  care  and  thought  and  anxiety 

to  grow  greengages  on  a  khud,  and  we  had 

none   of    these   things   to   spare.     Neither 

would  there  be  any  satisfaction  in  gathering 

quantities  of  them  when  one  could  buy  f 

convenient  number  in  the  bazaar.    We  could 

not  eat  them  all,  and  it  was  not  our  walk  in 

I'fe  to  sell  such  things ;  we  might  certainly 


40  The  Crow's-Ncst 


■J      Mi 


^m 


expect  to  be  cheated.     We  should    be  re- 
duced to  making  indiscriminate  presents  of 
them  and  receiving  grateful  notes  from  peo- 
ple we  probably  could  n't  bear.    Or  possibly 
I,  like  the  enterprising  heroine  of  improving 
modern  fiction,  would  feel  compelled  to  start 
a  jam  factory,  and  did  I  strike  him,  Tiglath- 
Pileser,  as  a  person  to  bring  a  jam  factory 
to  a  successful   issue?     At  the  moment,  I 
remember,  an  accumulation    of  greengages 
seemed  the  one  thing  I  precisely  couldn't 
and  would  n't  tolerate,  but  I  did  n't  say  very 
much,  hardly  more  than  I  have  mentioned, 
as  the  supreme  argument  failed  to  occur  to 
me  at  the    time.     The  supreme  argument, 
which  only  visits  you  after  watching  the  pink 
and  white  petals  drop  among  the  deodars  for 
hours  together,  is,  of  course,  that  if  you  can 
afford  to  grow  fruit  to  look  at  it  is  utilitarian 
folly  to  turn  it  into  fruit  to  eat.     So  I  have 
no  doubt  he  had  his  way.  ...  I  have  been 
to  see  ;  it  is  the  case.     Where  there  should 
be  masses  of  delicate  bloom  there  are  stumps, 
bare  attenuated  stumps,  tied  up  in  poultices 
with  fingers  sticking  out  of  them,  which  I 


The  Crow's- Nest 


suppose  are  the  precious  grafts.  Well,  the 
dev,!  enters  .nto  each  of  us  in  his  own  gdse. 
shall  warn  T.glath-Pi,,,er  p.nicuiafly  to" 
beware  of  h.m  ,n  the  form  of  a  market 
gardener.  "laricet 

i  .h  'h  TT  """^'='^"ti°'^sly  pass  over  the 
rhododendrons,  which  are  all  aloft  and  ablaze 
just  now.     It  would  be  unkind  and  ungrate! 

ful  when  they  have  come  of  their  own  a!cord 
to  grow  on  my  khud  and  make  it  in  places 

"llymagmficent,  though  they  arouse  in  me 

\    ;;  """'"^"^  '^^  =»"  -d   r  had  just  as  soon 

;      hey  we«  somewhere  else.     M  home  the 

I     rhododendron  ,s  a  bush  on  a  lawn;    here  it 

grows  mto  a  forest  tree,  and  when  vou  come 

sZL'^th      T•'■"''^^■''^^^'^'^^^-- 
shmmg  through  ,ts  red  clusters  against  the 

v.v,d  blue  .t  stands  like  candelabrahghted  to 
e  glory  of  the  Lord.     I  will  consent  to 
adm.re  .t  m  that  office,  but  for  common  hu- 
man garden  uses  I  find  it  a  little  over-superb 

d  very  disconcerting  to  the  apricots  and 
plums.  Also  Thisbe  will  put  it  about  in 
bowls,  and  will  not  see  that'its  very  fitnels 
tor  sanctuary  purposes  makes  it  worse  than 


A.2 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


'■■■ai;' 


useless  on  the  end  of  a  piano.  To  begin 
with,  its  name  is  against  it.  Philologically 
speaking  you  might  as  well  put  a  hippopot- 
amus in  a  vase  as  a  rhododendron.  Apart 
from  that  it  sulks  in  the  house  and  huddles 
into  bunches  of  red  cotton.  It  misses  the 
sun  in  its  veins,  I  suppose,  and  its  spiky  cup 
of  leaves,  and  its  proper  place  in  the  world 
at  the  end  of  a  branch.  The  peony,  which 
it  is  a  little  like,  is  i.;iich  better  behaved  in 
a  drawing-room,  out  then  it  has  a  leg  to 
stand  on  ;  we  all  want  that.  Besides,  a  peony 
is  a  peony,  which  reminds  me  that  I  have 
never  seen  one  in  Simla.  It  seems  to  have 
been  left  at  home  by  design  in  the  general 
emigration  of  English  flowers,  like  an  unat- 
tractive old  maid  whom  it  was  not  worth 
while  to  bring.  But  taste  and  fashion  change, 
and  I  see  a  spot  where  a  large  bunch  ot 
peonies  would  be  both  comfortable  and  de- 
lectable. It  is  not,  after  all,  only  slim  young 
things  that  are  to  be  desired  in  society  or  in 
a  garden.  Firm,  fine  high-coloured  madames 
with  ample  skirts  and  ripe  experience  are 
often  much  more  worth  cultivating. 


feL  '.H^HTT  IMOI^'^HirWfVI 


The  Crow's-Ncst         43 

Ah  !  they  hold  mu,  even  in  imagination, 
the  dear  old  peonies  !    Always  they  were  the 
first,  in  a  certain  garden  of  early  colonial 
fashion  that  I  used  to  know  in  Canada,  after 
the  long  hard  winter  was  past,  to  push  their 
red-green  beginnings   up    into    the    shabby 
welcome  of  the  month  of  March.    We  used 
to  look  for  them  under  the  wet  black  fallen 
leaves    before    a   sign  had    come   upon    the 
apple-trees,  before  anything  else   stirred  or 
spoke  at  all ;  and  how  tender  is  one's  grown- 
up affection  for  a  thing  which  bound  itself 
together  like  that  with  one's  childish  delight 
in  the  first  happy  vibration  of  the  spring ! 
Here,  after  all  these  many  springs  and  half 
across   the  world,  here   on  my   remote  and 
lofty  shelf  where  no  one  lives  but  Aryans 
and  officials,  I  want  them  to  come  up  again 
that  way,  and  if  they  have    not   forgotten 
the  joy  of  it  perhaps  I  too  shall  remember. 
Atma  having  no  objection,  I    will  send  to 
England  for  some  peonies. 

E/erything  is  green  except  the  forget-me- 
nots,  they  are  very  blue  indeed  in  thick 
borders  along  both  sides  of  the  drive ;  sweet 


t?5^  1  :m^^_m  -^i  t.l.1^ 


+4         The  Crow's-Nest 


they  look,  like  narrow  streams  reflecting  the 
sky  in  the  middle  of  the  garden.  Do  not 
gather  the  forget-me-not,  it  is  a  foolish  inert 
little  nonentity  in  the  hand,  it  has  not  even 
character  enough  for  a  button-hole,  but  in 
the  bosom  of  its  family  it  is  delightful.  At- 
ma  is  very  pleased  with  these  bordei.;  it  is 
the  first  time  he  has  had  them  so  long  and 
so  gay.  "How  excellent  this  season,"  says 
he  in  his  own  tongue,  "  are  the  gifrie-iioughts 
of  we  people."  I  told  you  he  was  a  man  of 
parts ;  it  is  not  easy  to  be  a  poet  in  another 
language. 

Also,  I  perceive,  there  are  periwinkles  on 
the  khud. 


I 


1 

1 


^rw^^-^ 


\ 


I 


T  was  an  ^vent  this  morning  when  Tha- 
ha  came  whisking  along  the  Mall  i„ 
her   rickshaw    and    turned    in    here 
The  Mall,  I  should  mention,  is  the 
only  roaa  m  S.mla  that  has  a  name.     It  is  a 
deplorably  inappropriate  name,  it  makes  you 
t  mk  of  sedan-chairs  and  elderly  beaux  and 
other  things  that  have  never  appeared  upon 
the  Himlayas,  and  it  was  doubtless  given  in 
uension,  but  it  r.,,^  n        '' 

,  '     "V  '  -ist  like  many  an- 

other  poor  old        ,  'ast  peop  Jtake 

t  seriously  ana  ;>rg..ci.n  It  ever  pretended 
to    be    humorous.      I    don't    even    know 

tt^M  n'  "r""'  f-^^-'o.M.  to  live  upon 
the    Mall    than  elsewhere,  or  whether   one 

can  claim  to  live  upon  it  when  it  runs  past 
one  s  attic  windows  like  an  elevated  railway  • 
but  we  have  often  remarked  to  one  another' 

that.fwecannotbesaid  to  live  upon  the 
Mall  we  cannot  be  said  to  live  anywhere  and 


46 


The  Crow's-Nest 


taken  what  comfort  may  be  had  out  of  that. 
Our  peculiar  situation  has  at  all  events  the 
advantage  that  I  can  always  see  Thalia  com- 
ing, which  adds  the  pleasure  of  anticipation 
to  her  most  unexpected  visit.  Like  most 
of  us,  Thalia  arrives  with  the  season,  but  it 
should  be  added  that  she  brings  the  season 
with  her.  We  amuse  ourselves  a  good  deal, 
for  a  serious  community,  with  a  toy  theatre, 
in  which  we  present  Mr.  Jones  and  Mr.  Pi- 
nero  so  intelligently  that  I  often  wonder  why 
neither  of  these  playwrights  has  yet  come 
out  to  ascertain  what  he  is  really  capable  of. 
Thalia  is  our  leading  comedienne;  you 
would  have  guessed  that  by  her  name.  She 
is  never  too  soon  anywhere,  but  I  had  be- 
gun to  wonder  when  she  was  coming  up. 
"  Up,"  of  course,  means  up  from  the  plains, 
— up  from  the  Pit,  as  its  present  temperature 
quite  permits  me  to  explain.  April  is  the 
iast  month  in  which  you  can  leave  the  Pit 
without  being  actually  scorched. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  she  ex- 
claimed, half-way  down  the  drive.  She  ex- 
pected, I  suppose,  to  find  me  in  the  house 


The  Crow's-Nest 


I 


47 

trying  to  decide  upon  the  shade  of  this  year's 
cheese-cloth  curtains.  By  the  way,  I  have 
decided  —  that  the  old  ones  will  do.  Thisbe 
does  n't  mind,  and  I  've  got  the  clouds 

"Oh,  I  ^m  just  here,"  I  said  with  non- 
chalance.    There  is    nothing  like   nonchal- 
rnce  to  prove  superiority  to  circumstances. 
tiow  are  you  ?  " 

"  'hank  you,"  said  Thalia.  «  Well,  come 
along  m  I  've  got  quantities  of  things 
to  talk  about."  ° 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  I  returned,  "to 
press  my  hospitality  upon  me,  but  I  don't 
go  m.     I  stay  out.     If  Tiglath-Pileser  saw 
me  entering  the  house  at  this  hour,"  I  con- 
tinued with  the  vulgarity  which  we  permit 
ourselves  to  the  indulgent  ear  of  a  friend, 
.t  would  be  as  much  as  my  place  is  worth 
But  you  see  I  have  a  chair  ready  for  emer- 
gencies-pray sit  down.     You  aie  the  first 
emergency  that  has  arisen,  I  mean  that  has 
dropped  m,  this  year." 

When  I  had  fully  explained,  as  I  was  at 
once  of  course  compelled  to  do,  with  a 
wealth  of  detail  and  much  abuse  of  Tiglath- 


48 


The  Crow's-Nest 


Pileser,  I  was  not  gratified  with  the  effect 
upon    Thalia.      "You    have    simply    been 
spending  your  time  out-of-doors,"  said  she, 
"  a  very  ordinary  thing  to  do." 
«  Try  it,"  said  I. 
"  And  are  you  better  ?  " 
"  I  think,"  I  replied,  "  that  I  have  possi- 
bly gained  a  little  weight.     But  I  might  as 
well  admit  it  cheerfully,  they  won't  take  my 
word  against  any  pair  of  scales." 

"That  was  an  excellent  prescription  I 
sent  you  in  October,"  Thalia  continued  re- 
proachfully. "  You  have  n't  given  it  up  ? " 
"  It  has  given  me  up,"  I  responded 
promptly,  "  after  the  first  three  weeks  it  de- 
clined to  have  anything  whatever  to  say  to 
me.  And  besides,  it  had  to  be  taken  in 
decreasing  doses.  Now  if  a  thing  is  really 
calculated  to  do  you  good  it  should  be  taken 
in  /«creasing  doses.  That  is  why  I  begin  to 
have  some  little  confidence  in  this  out-of- 
doors  business.  Every  day  I  feel  equal  to 
a  little  more  of  it." 

«  Well,"  said  Thalia,  "  Mrs.    Lyric  told 
me  that  it  had  made  another  woman  of  her. 


I 


The  Crow's-Nest 


49 


And   Colonel    Lyric    commands   the    loth 
Pink  Hussars." 

Thalia  knows   it  annoys    me  to  be   told 
about  a  woman,  with  any  sort  of  significance, 
what  position  her  husband  occupies  in  the 
world,  and  that   is  the  reason  she  does  it. 
I  do  not  say  that  it  has  no  weight  as  a  con- 
tributory fact  in  a  general  description,  but  I 
do  say  that  an  improper  amount  of  impor- 
tance is  usually  attached  to  it.      You    ask 
what  kind  of  a  person  Mrs.  Thorn  is,  and 
you  are  told,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Thorn  is  Chief  Sec- 
retary in  the    Department  of  Thuggi    and 
Dacoity,"    being   expected  without   further 
ado  to  dispose  yourself  to  love  her  if  she 
will  let  you.      One  is  always  inclined  to  say 
"  But  she  may  be  very  nice  in  spite  of  that," 
and  one   only  refrains   because  one   knows 
how  scandal  grows  in  Simla.     And  there  are 
people   in  these   parts,  I    assure  you,  who 
would  run  to  take   a   prescription    because 
it  had  made    another   woman   of  the   wife 
of  the  colonel  commanding  the   loth  Pink 
Hussars,  no  matter  what  kind  of  a  woman 
she  had  been  before ;  but  I  was  not  going 
4 


50         The  Crow's-Nest 


ii 


11 


to  gratify  Thalia  by  letting  her  see  that  I 
knew  it. 

'«  At  all  events,"  I  said  calmly,  "it  had  to 
be  taken  in  decreasing  doses  and  naturally  it 
came  to  an  end.     Are  you  settled  in  ?" 

"  I  have  a  roof  to  cover  me, '  said  Thalia 
sententiously,  "and  for  that,"  she  added 
looking  round,  "I  didn't  know  how  thank- 
ful I  was.  But  I  am  undergoing  repairs. 
Thf  >  are  putting  mud  into  the  cracks  of  my 
dwelling,  paperhangers  are  impending,  and 
this  morning  arrived  three  whitewashers.  I 
wanted  to  be  done  with  it  at  once,  so  I  sent 
for  three.  I  told  them  I  was  in  a  hurry. 
In  one  breath,  they  said,  it  should  be  done, 
and  sat  down  in  the  verandah  to  make  then 
brushes.  It's  a  fact.  Of  split  bamboo. 
You  can  not  hustle  the  East  But  I  found 
I  had  to  come  away." 

"  How  foolish  it  all  seems  ! "  I  sighed  with 
an  eye  upon  the  farther  hills.  "  Should  n't 
you  like  to  see  my  pansies  ?  " 

"Yesj"  she  repliedresignedly,"!  supnosel 
must  see  your  pansies,"  and  where  I  led  she 
followed  me,  still  babbling  of  paperhangers. 


\iiMh 


The  Crow's-Nest 


51 


It  IS  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  during 
the  months  of  April,  May,  and  June,  there 
are  more  pansies  than  people  in  this  town. 
(Upon  second  thoughts  why  should  it  be  an 
exaggeration,  since  in  every  garden  inhabited 
by  two  or  three  persons  there  are  hundreds 
of  pansies.)     They  seem  to  like  the  offici-I 
atmosphere,  doubtless  in  being  so  high  and 
dry  It  suits  them  ;  at  all  events  they  adapt 
themselves  to  it  with  less  fUss  than  almost 
any  other  flower.     And  certainly  they  could 
teach   individuality  to  most  of  our  worthy 
bureaucrats,  who  have  a  way  of  coming  up 
thty,  exactly  like  each  other.     Pansies  from 
the  same   parent  root  naturally  look  alike 
but  if  you  really  scan  their  features  there  is' 
not  the  least  resemblance  between  families 
I  have  been  living  principally  in  their  fellow- 
ship for  several  days  and  I  quite  feel  that 
my  knowledge  of  human  nature  is  extended. 
1  here  never  was  such  variety  of  tempera- 
ment  in    any   community;    to    describe    it 
wouk.  be  to  write  a  list  of  all  the  adjectives 
yet    invented    to   bear    upon    character,   a 
tedious  task.     It  is  positively  a  relief  after 


52 


The  Crow's-Nest 


the  slight  monotony  of  a  society  in  which 
everybody  is  paid  by  the  Queen,  to  meet 
persons  like  pansies,  who  are  n't  paid  by 
anybody,  and  who  express  themselves,  in 
V  nsequence,  with  the  utmost  facility  and 
treedom.  (Thalia,  who  is  the  wife  of  the 
Head  of  a  Department,  here  interrupted  me 
to  ask  what  I  could  possibly  mean.)  Oh 
there  is  no  charm  like  spontaneity,  in  idea, 
behaviour,  or  looks.  The  Dodos  of  Lon- 
don society  triumph  by  it,  while  self-con- 
scious people  of  vast  intellectual  resources 
are  considered  frumps. 

I  imparted  all  this  to  Thalia,  and  she 
agreed  with  me. 

You  see  these  things  in  a  pansy,  and  a 
great  deal  more  —  station  in  life,  religious 
convictions  almost  —  but  try  to  focus  your 
impression,  try  to  analyze  the  blooming 
countenance  that  looks  up  into  yours,  and 
the  result  is  fugitive  and  annoying.  Not  a 
feature  will  bear  inspection  ;  instantly  they 
vanish,  magically,  as  if  ashamed  of  the  like- 
ness you  look  for,  and  leave  you  contem- 
plating just  a  flower,  with  petals.     You  have 


^■•Mi' 


The  Crow's-Nest 


noticed  that  in  a  pansy.     It  is  better,  if  you 

Z'^-TTr^'^'"''''^  "^^'»'  'o  take 
them  with  a  hght  and  passing  regard    and 

pnvately  add  then,   to  tL  agfeeab^l^^^^^ 
of  life  that  will  not  bear  looking  into 

I  here  asked  Thalia  if  she  thought  'they 
said  she  did  n't  know. 

One  often  hears  the  German  language 
comp hmented  on  its  pretty  name  for  pal- 
sies Sr,ef^uU.rcAe»,  but  it  is  very  indiscrim- 

■natmg.     They  are   by  no  means  all      "e 
sepmothers;    some    of  them    wear   beard 

nd      wish  they  would  n't.  for  a  beard  is  a 
oathly  thmg  in  nature  or  on  men.     aL 
the  personation  that  goes  on  among  them  is 
really   reprehensible;    one   can    find   paly 
photographs    of   any    number    of   pip  I 
One  irascible   and   impossible    old    retired 
cdonel  m  England  is  always  appearing,    o 
my    great    satisfaction    and    delight      The 
original    would    be    so    vastly   annoyed    to 
know  how  often  he  comes  out  to  see  me 
here,  and  how  amiable  and  interesting  I  find 
h.m,  for  we  are  not  good  friends,  and  I  am 


I  ! 


54         The  Crow's-Nest 

sure  he  would  not  dream  of  calling  in  the 
flesh.  It  is  an  old  story  among  us,  but  1 
was  surprised  to  find  Atma,  too,  impressed 
with  this  likeness  U  the  human  family.  I 
asked  him  the  other  day  why  some  pansies 
were  so  big  and  others  so  little.  He  con- 
sidered for  a  moment  and  then  he  said  with 
the  smiling  benevolence  which  we  extend  to 
the  intelligence  of  the  young,  "  Like  people 
they  come  — some  are  born  to  be  large  and 
some  to  be  small.  As  Sropo  and  Masuddi." 
Atma  is  really  the  interpreter  of  this  garden. 
Thalia  again  interrupted  me  to  ask  why  it 
was  not  possible  this  season,  when  purple 
was  so  popular,  to  find  in  the  shops  any- 
thing as  royal  as  the  colour  a  certain  pansy 
was  wearing.  I  saia  the  reason  was  prob- 
ably lost  in  science,  but  she  immediately 
supplied  it  herself,  as  I  have  noticed  my 
sex  is  prone  to  do  in  searching  for  general 
explanations.  "  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  one 
must  remember  that  they  grow  their  own 
clothes.  If  we  could  only  do  that!  The 
repose  of  being  quite  certain  that  nobody  else 
had  your  pattern  1 " 


r— «i  T 


*.^-''i'^I»'^T» 


The  Crow's- Nest         55 


"  They  would  take  too  long,"  I  objected. 
"This  poor  thing  has  spent  three-quar- 
ters of  her  life  making  her  frock,  and 
now  she  can  only  wear  it  for  about  three 
days." 

But  Thalia  seemed  pleased  with  the  idea. 
"Think  how  original  I  could  make  my 
gowns  in  Lady  Thermidore"  she  said  pen- 
sively. 

"  And  you  would  perish  with  your  design ! " 
I  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  she  cried  luminously,  « I  should 
reappear  in  anotiier  character !  " 

I  have  often  noticed  how  radical  is  the 
effect  of  play-acting  upon  the  human  mind. 
Your  play-actress  throws  herself  naturally 
into  every  character  she  meets.  I  could  see 
that  it  was  giving  Thalia  hardly  any  trouble 
to  transform  herself  into  a  pansy. 

We  went  back  to  the  chairs  and  sat  down, 
but  not  for  long.  Consulting  her  watch, 
my  friend  announced  that  she  must  be 
off,  she  was  going  to  lunch  at  Delia's.  "  At 
Delia's  1 "  I  remarked.  «  How  people  are 
swallowed  up  in  their  houses,  to  be  sure! 


11' 


I 


56         The  Crow's-Nest 

You  would  be  more  polite  to  say  '  at  Delia.' 
It 's  bad  habit,  this  living  in  houses." 

"  I  think,"  she  responded,  "  that  you  are 
losing  your  social  graces.  I  had  quantities 
of  things  to  tell  you,  and  I  am  taking  them 
away  untold.  The  garden  is  too  vague  a 
place  to  receive  in.  However,  never  mind, 
I  will  try  to  come  again.  Your  flowers  are 
charming,  but  it  has  not  been  what  I  call  a 
satisfactory  visit.  I  hope  I  have  n't  bored 
you." 

"  How  can  you  say  so  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  I  have 
enjoyed  it  immensely,"  and  I  tucked  her 
affectionately  into  her  rickshaw  and  sped  her 
on  her  way.  When  she  had  well  started  I 
remembered  something,  and  ran  after  her. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  demanded,  all  interest  and 
curiosity. 

"  It  was  only  to  ask  you,"  I  said  breath- 
lessly, "if  you  had  noticed  what  a  large 
number  of  pansies  look  like  Mr.  Asquith  .?  " 


I 


Chapter    VI 

IT  is  a  dull  and  serious  day.     As  my 
fam.iy  declare  ttiat  I  have  become  a 
mere  barometer  of  my  former  self, 
this  will  perhaps    be,  but  I  am  not 
certam,  a  dull  and  serious  chapter.     There 
are   no   clouds,  there  is  only  a  prevailing 
opaqueness,  which  shuts  down  just  beyond 
the  nearest  ranges,  letting  through  an  un- 
pleasant general  light  that  makes  the  place 
look  hke  a  bad,  hard,  lumpish  study  in  oils. 
Ihe  stocks,  which  have  come  out  very  ele 
gantly  since  last  week,  have  a  disappointed 
air  and  the  pansies  are  positively  lugubrious. 
Only   the    tall    field-daisies   and   the   snap- 
dragons seem  not  to  mind.     They  plainly 
preach  and  as  plainly  practise  the  philosophy 
of  flowers  taking  what  they  can  get  in  the 
hope  of  better  things.     Like  most  philoso- 
phers in  a  small  way,  however,  they  are  not 
over-distressed  with  sensibility  on  their  own 


58 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


part,  and  I  cannot  see  why  they  should  take 
it  upon  themselves  to  cheer  up  any  of  the 
rest  of  us. 

I  have  asked  Sropo  whether  it  is  going 
to  rain.  "Mistress,"  he  replied,  "how 
should  I  know?"  "Worthy  one,"  said  1, 
"  you  have  lived  in  these  parts  for  twenty 
years.  What  manner  of  owl  are  you  that 
to  you  it  does  not  appear  whether  or  not  it 
will  rain  ?  "  "  Mistress,"  quoth  he,  with  his 
throaty  chuckle,  "  the  rajah-folk  themselves 
do  not  know  this  thing." 

I  do  not  think,  myself,  that  we  shall  have 
anything  so  pleasant  as  rain.  The  day  is 
too  dispirited  for  weeping  ;  it  will  perform  its 
appointed  task  and  go  to  bed.  I  have  not 
in  months  encountered  a  circumstance,  an 
associate  or  a  prescription  so  lowering  as  the 
present  morning.  Coming  out  as  usual, 
quite  prepared  to  be  agreeable,  it  has  given 
me  the  cold  shoulder  and  the  sulky  nod. 
For  two  pins  I  would  go  back  into  the 
house  and  take  every  flower  I  could  gather 
with  me. 

Cometh  the  postman,  advancing  down  the 


'«r?v  zsmj-^r-vmrmia 


I 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


59 

drive.     Always  an    interest  attaches  to  the 
postman;  he  is  like  to-morrow,  you  never 
know  what  he  may  bring,  but  he  loses  half 
Ins  charm  and  ail  his  dignity  when  deprived 
of  his  rat-tat-tat.     Government  makes   up 
for  it  to  some  extent  by  dressing  him  in  a 
red  flannel  coat  with  a  leather  belt  and  bare 
logs,   but  he  can  never  acquire  his  proper 
and  legitimate  warning  for  the  simple  reason 
that  the  houses  of  this  country  have  neither 
knockers  nor  bells.     How  sharply  different 
are  the  ways   in  which  people  account  for 
themselves  in  thir  world  !     It  is  one  of  the 
poignancies  of  life.     This  Punjabi  postman 
earns  his  living  by  putting  one  foot  before 
another  — it  comes  to  that  — in  the  diverse 
interests  of  the  community,  and  you  never 
saw  anybody  look  more  profoundly  bored 
with  other  people's  affairs.     I  earn  mine  — 
or  would  if  it  were  not  for  Tiglath-Pileser  — 
by  looking  carefully  in  the  back  of  my  head 
for  foolish  things  to  write  about  a  garden. 
It  IS  a  method  so  much  pleasanter  that  my 
compassion  for  the  postman  has  a  twinge  of 
scruple  in  it  for  my  lighter  lot.     That  1  had 


i.       iii.„«         M' 


6o 


The  Crow's-Nest 


I 


nothing  in  the  world  to  do  with  the  arrange- 
ment does  not  somehow  make  me  quite 
happy  about  it  —  the  fact  is  that  to  be  logi- 
cal is  not  always  to  be  happy.  I  can  only 
hope  that  if  the  postman  and  I  meet  again 
in  the  progress  of  eternity  I  shall  find  him 
composing  poems. 

He  has  brought  nothing  to  speak  of,  only 
the  daily  newspaper  published  at  Lahore. 
That  in  itself  is  sufficiently  curious,  to  live 
in  a  place  where  the  morning  paper  is 
published  at  Lahore.  Still  stranger,  to  the 
western  mind,  may  be  the  thought  —  of  a 
journal  produced  in  Allahabad.  Allahabad, 
as  a  centre  of  journalistic  enterprise,  has  the 
glamour  of  comic  opera.  Yet  Allahabad 
has  its  newspaper,  and  they  print  it  very 
nicely  too.  However,  it  would  be  ridiculous 
to  write  an  essay  upon  Indian  journalism 
merely  because  a  Punjabi  postman  has 
brought  in  a  newspaper. 

That  a  day  like  this  should  sound  another 
minor  note  is  almost  a  thing  to  cry  out 
against,  yet  it  is  on  such  days  that  they  rise 
and  swell  in  a  perfect  diapason  of  misery. 


The  Crow's-Nest         6i 


When  the  sun  withdraws  itself  from  the 
human  consciousness  things  come  up,  I 
suppose,  from  underneath.  In  the  gayety 
of  yesterday  perhaps  I  should  not  have  seen 
the  coolie  with  the  charcoal ;  he  would  have 
passed  naturally  among  the  leaf-shadows, 
a  thing  to  be  taken  for  granted.  To-day 
he  hurts.  His  bag  of  charcoal  is  deplorably 
heavy;  he  bends  forward  under  it  so  far 
that  he  has  to  lift  his  head  to  see  beyond 
him,  and  every  muscle  strains  and  glistens 
to  carry  it.  His  gait  under  his  load  is  slow 
and  uncertain  and  tentative,  and  I  know  it 
has  brought  him  to  the  wrong  house;  we 
are  supplied  for  months  with  charcoal. 

He  has  stopped  to  ask,  and  I  find  that 
he  has  come  quite  a  mile  out  of  his  way  to 
this  mistake.  With  patience  and  submis- 
sion when  I  explained,  he  shifted  his  load 
and  turned  from  me  toward  the  deferred  re- 
lief, the  further  limit.  The  human  beast  of 
burden  is  surely  the  summing  up  of  pathos 
—  free  and  enviable  are  all  others  compared 
with  him.  So  heavy  a  toil  fills  one  with 
righteous   anger    against    the    inventor,   so 


62 


The  Crow's-Nest 


primitive  a  task  humiliates  one  for  the 
race.  Niggardly,  niggardly  is  the  heritage 
of  Adam's  sons.  I  must  see  that  man 
straighten  his  back.  .  .  .  There  is  no  harm 
done  ;  you  cannot  have  too  much  charcoal. 

One  questions,  on  such  a  day,  whether  it 
is  quite  worth  while,  this  attempt  by  the  as- 
sistance of  nature  to  live  a  little  longer.  I 
myself  am  almost  convinced  that  persons 
afflicted  with  the  gift  of  sympathy  would  be 
wise  to  perish  easily  and  soon,  and  should 
be  willing  to  do  „.,  instead  of  throwing 
themselves  in  the  lap  of  the  mother  of  us 
all  beseeching  a  few  more  years  and  promis- 
ing to  be  very,  very  good  and  try  to  deserve 
them.  Why  protract,  at  the  expense  of  up- 
setting all  your  habits  and  customs,  an  acute 
sense  of  undeserved  superiority  to  coolies 
and  postmen ;  why  by  taking  infinite  pains 
and  indefinite  air  prolong  existence  based  on 
such  a  distressing  perception,  when  by  going 
on  with  almost  any  good  prescription  you 
are  pretty  certain  reasonably  soon  to  take 
your  comfortable  place  in  the  only  democ- 
racy which,  so  far  as  we  know,  is  a  practical 


W2?^>^.'"» 


TheC'-ow's-Nest         63 


working  success  ?  For  there  is  neither  class 
nor  competition  nor  capita),  nor  any  kind  of 
advantage  in  the  grave  whither  thou  goest 
but  one  indisputable  dead  level  of  condition 
and  experience,  with  peace  and  freedom  from 
the  curse  of  evolution  ;  not  even  the  fittest 
surv./e. 

Comfortable   persons    like,  oh   several    I 
could  mention,  who  have  no  way  of  walking 
with  another  postman's  legs  or  bending  with 
another  coo  ie's  back  and  who  cannot  under- 
stand why  th^s  should  be  called  a  distressful 
world  which  provides  them   regularly  with 
tea  and  muffins,  should  go  on  naturally,  to 
the  end.     They  have  their  indifferent  pro- 
totypes  among   the   vegetables;    though    I 
have  noticed  that   most  flowers  look  with 
the  eye   of  compassion  upon  life.      Thev 
follow  the   simple   lines   upon  which    they 
were  created,  by  which  to  live  and  not  to 
observe  is  the  chief  end  of  man  ;  there  are  a 
great  many  of  them,  thousands,  in  their  pro- 
tective skins  all  over  the  world;  and  they 
are  only  interesting  of  course  to  each  other 
^Nevertheless  no  one  should  speak  slight- 


«s  mi^^W'^ 


64 


The  Crow's-Nest 


ingly  of  them,  for  we  all  number  them 
among  our  friends  and  relations,  and  con- 
stantly go  and  stay  with  them.  Besides,  I 
did  not  set  out  to  be  disagreeable  at  any- 
body's expense.  It  was  only  borne  in  upon 
me  that  for  us,  the  unhappy  minority  who 
have  two  sets  of  nerves,  one  for  our  own 
use  and  one  at  the  disposal  of  every  human 
failure  by  the  wayside,  the  world  is  not  likely 
to  become  a  pleasanter  place  the  longer  one 
stays  in  it.  If  continual  dropping  will  wear 
away  a  stone,  continual  rubbing  will  wear 
away  a  skin,  and  happy  is  he  or  she,  after 
sixtv  or  seventy  years'  contact  with  the  mis- 
ery of  life,  who  arrives  at  the  grave  with  a 
whole  one. 

I  do  not  deny  that  there  are  poultices. 
One  of  them  is  a  thing  Tiglath-Pileser 
sometimes  says  —  that  it  is  stupid  to  talk 
about  the  aggregate  of  human  woe,  since  all 
the  pain  as  well  as  all  the  pleasure  of  the 
world  is  summed  up  in  the  individual  and 
limited  by  him.  A  battle  is  really  no  more 
than  the  kilhng  of  a  soldier,  a  famine  is 
comprised  in  a  death  by  starvation.     The 


I 


The  Crow's-Nest 


65 

unit  of  experience  refuses  to  merge  in  the 
mass;  you  cannot  multiply  beyond  one.  I 
do  not  think  much  of  this  emollient,  but 
such  as  it  is  I  will  apply  it  if  another  coolie 
comes  in  with  charcoal. 

Seriously  speaking,  when  your  time  comes 
—  I  hope  this  makes  nobody  uncomfortable, 
but  I  never  can  understand  why  one  should 
shirk   the   subject   instead    of  regarding   it 
with  the  interest  and  curiosity  it  naturally 
inspires  — when  your  time  goes,  rather,  and 
leaves  you  confronted  with  that  vast  eter- 
nity so  full  of  unimaginably  agreeable  pos- 
sibilities, which  of  all  the  parts  and  members 
that  make  up  you,  shall  you  be  most  sorry 
to  relinquish  ?     I  do   not  refer  to  obscure 
organs  such  as  the  heart  and  lungs,  which 
you  never  notice  except  when  they  are  giv- 
ing trouble,  but  the  willing  agents  by  which 
you  keep  in  touch  with  the  world.     I   am 
very  fond  of  them  all,  I  am  so  accustomed 
to  their  ways  and  they  know  so  exactly  what 
I  like;   I   could   not  dismiss  any  of  them 
without  regret,  but  I   find  degrees  in  the 
distressful    anticipation.      One's    eyes,   for 


66         The  Crow's-Ncst 


nstance,  have  given  one  more  and  keener 
ieasure 


Pl 


certainly,  than    any  other    organ : 


but  I  could  close  my  eyes.     One's  ears  have 
registered  all  the  voices  one  loves,  and  the 
sound  of  rain  and  the  wind  among  the  pines, 
but  there  is  such  a  din  in  this  world  besides 
that   very    gladly    I    could   close    my  ears. 
One's  feet  have  been  most  willing  servitors, 
but  one  sees  so  little  of  them  —would  you 
recognize  a  photograph  of  your  own  foot  ? 
For   me  it  is  the   most   grievous   thing  to 
think  that  one  will  be  obliged  to  abandon 
one's   hands.     One's  hands  are  more  than 
servants,  they  are  friends.     One  holds  them 
in  respect  and  admiration  and  personal  affec- 
tion, and  in  the  end  is  not  what  we  write  upon 
them  the   very  summing-up  of  ourselves? 
And  from  the  first  spoon  they  carry  to  our 
infant  lips  to  the  adult  irritation  they  work 
off  by  tapping  on  the  table  how  much  they 
have  done  for   one!     Above   all  things  I 
shall  miss  my  hands  if  I  have  to  do  without 
them,  and   I  shall  be  profoundly  resentful, 
though  I  may  not  show  it,  when  somebody 
else  takes  the  liberty  of  folding  them  for  me. 


M 


The  Crow's-Ncst         67 


Thisbe,  coming  out  to  say  that  she  h  is 
neuralgia,  and  will    I   ever  come  in  to  tea 
demands  to  know  what  I  have  written  there' 
1  shall  not  tell   Thisbe;  it  is  a  melancholy 
ot  mme  own,  compounded  of  many  simples 
Moreover,  she  would  report  it   to  Tiglath 
Pileser,  and  they  would  take  measures'-   I 
should  be  lucky  to  get   off  with    an    iron 
tonic. 

"  Nothing  about  you,  Thisbe." 
But  in  order  to   ascertain  what   I    really 
have  said  about  her,  _  she  has  a  hatred  of 
publicity  and  I  have  to  be  very  careful,  _ 
she  goes  privily  when  I  am  immersed  in  tea 
and  possesses  herself  of  the  whole. 

"But  you    are    not   going    to    die,"   she 
exclaimed    with    dismay    and    disapproval. 
We  have  made  quite  other  arrangements, 
lou  can't  possibly  die,  now." 

"Not  immediately,  in  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,"  I  respond.  «  But  there  is  no  harm 
in  looking  forward  to  it  a  little,  —  on  a  day 
like  this."  ^ 


Chapter 


VII 


THERE    are    many    methods    ot 
gardening.     I  have  known  peo- 
ple who  were  not  content  with 
anything    but   actually   digging 
and  weeding,  grubbing   up   the   curly  wet 
worms    and  the  tough  roots,  and  bending 
their  own  backs  over  bulbs  and  seedlings 
That  is  the  thorough  method,  and  though 
it  is  a  little  like  sweeping  and  scrubbing  out 
yourself  the  rooms  your  guests  are  to  occu- 
py —  and  I  suppose  that  would  be  a  pleas- 
ure to  some  people, -it  is  the  method  that 
commands   the    most    respect.     Compared 
with  it  I  feel  that  I  cannot  ask  respect  tor 
mine ;  I  must  be  content  with  admiration. 
My  gardening  is  done  entirely  with  scissors, 
scissors  and   discretion,   both   easy  to  use. 
With  scissors  a..d  discretion  I  walk  about 
my  garden,  snipping  off  the  flowers  that  are 
over.     Masuddi  comes  behind,  holding  my 


The  Crow's-Nest         69 


umbrella,  Sropo  with  a  basket  picks  up  the 
devoted  heads.     I   thus  ignore  causes  and 
deal  directly  with  results,  much  the  simplest 
and  quickest  way  when  life  is  complicated 
by  its  manifold  presentations  and  the  cares 
of  a  family.     And  the  results  are  wonderful, 
—  I  can  heartily  recommend  this  method  of 
gardening  to  any  one  who  wants  to  compass 
the   most   charming   effect   with    the    least 
exertion.     A  plant  is  only  a  big  bouquet, 
and  what  bouquet  does  not  instantly  redouble 
its  beauty  when  you  take  away  the  one  or 
two  flowers  that  have  withered  in  it.'     A 
faded  flower  is  too  sad  a  comment  upon  life 
to  be  allowed  to  remain  even  on  its  parent 
stem,  besides  being  detrimental  and  untidy 
like  a  "torn   petticoat.     There   should    be 
nothing  but  joy  in  the  garden,  joy  and  fresh- 
ness and  coquetry,  and  the  subtlest,  loveliest 
suggestion   of  art;    anon    by    the   diligent 
application  of  scissors  and  discretion  I  leave 
a  flood  of  these  things  behind  me  every  day. 
No  doubt  it  is  regrettable  that  the  withered 
rags  in  Sropo's  basket  represent  the  joy  and 
coquetry  of  yesterday  ;  this  is  the  lesson  of 


yo         The  Crow's-Ncst 


¥ 


life,  however  and  one  cannot  take  account 
of  everything.  Also  you  lay  yourself  open 
to  the  charge  of  being  a  mere  lady's-maid  to 
your  garden  ;  but  worse  things  than  that  aa 
said  about  nearly  everybody. 

Among  the  pansies  I  confess  I  feel  rathir 
an  executioner  with  my  scissors,  though  thcri.' 
a  rigorous  policy  most  rewards  me.  Nothini; 
is  so  slatternly  as  a  pansy  bed  where  some 
of  the  family  are  just  coming  out  into  the- 
world,  and  others  are  beginning  to  weary  of 
it  and  others  are  going  shamelessly  to  seed. 
My  pansies  must  all  be  properly  coiffurcd 
and  fit  to  appear  in  society ;  when  they  be- 
gin to  pull  shawls  over  their  heads  and  t:ikt 
despondent  views  I  remove  them.  More- 
over, under  this  unremitting  discipline,  they 
will  go  on  and  on,  I  shall  have  four  months 
of  pansies;  it  is  in  every  way  the  right  thing 

to  do. 

And  yet  it  is  a  remorseless  business,  turn- 
ing up  the  little  faces  to  see  if  they  have 
lived  long  enough  to  be  ready  for  the  guillo- 
tine. They  look  straight  at  you,  and  some 
of  them  shrink  and  some  beseech,  and  some 


The  Crow's-Ncst  7  i 


are  mutely  resigned.  I  am  no  stern  Atro- 
pos,  I  am  weak  before  the  fate  I  bring  and 
often  let  it  go ;  and  if  by  mistake  I  snip 
off  a  bud  I  hurry  on  and  try  to  forget  it. 
Has  the  divinity  who  lays   us   low  also,  I 

wonder,    his    moments    of  compunction 

does  he  ever  hold  his  hand  and  say  "  One 
more  day  "  ?  Or  does  he  snip  here  and  there 
at  random  "just  choosing  so"  ?  Oh  Sete- 
bos,  Setebos,  and  Setebos,  I  do  nof  like  your 
role,  I  am  glad  I  am  not  an  omnipotent 
Whim ;  I  hope  my  garden  thinks  better  of 
me  than  that.  The  prevailing  expression 
among  pansies,  by  the  way,  is  that  of  appre- 
hension ;  I  hope  this  is  a  botanical  fact  and 
not  confined  to  my  pansies. 

Nothing  is  more  annoying  in  a  small  way 
in  this  world  than  to  see  your  tastes  reflected 
in  those  whom  you  consider  infrior  to  your- 
self. You  would  rather  not  share  anything 
with  such  person<-,  even  a  preference.  I 
have  to  submit  to  this  vexation.  There  are 
others  hereabouts,  whom  I  have  got  into  the 
habit  of  looking  down  upon,  who  have  ex- 
actly my  idea  of  gardening.     I  hasten  to  say 


72 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


that  they  are  not  people  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  the  term.  Bold,  indeed,  would  he 
the  non-official  worm,  in  this  bureaucratic 
stronghold,  who  should  point  to  any  gaz>.tted 
creature  about  him  and  say  "  That  is  a  lesser 
thing  than  I."  Society  would  smile  and 
decline  to  be  deceived.  For  this  is  an  or- 
dered Olympus,  the  gods  go  in  to  dinner  by 
Regulation,  their  rank  and  pay  is  published 
in  Kalends  which  anybody  may  buy,  and 
the  senior  among  them  are  diligently  wor- 
shipped by  the  junior  as  "brass  hats."  No, 
it  would  certainly  not  be  for  the  Tiglath- 
Pilesers  who  never  sent  back  a  parcel  to  the 
draper's  tied  up  in  red  tape  in  their  lives, 
not  having  a  yard  of  it  in  the  house  for  any 
purpose,  to  give  themselves  airs  over  per- 
sons who  use  it  every  day.  But  even  a 
non-official  may  look  down  upon  a  monkey. 
My  offensive  imitators  are  monkeys. 

I  would  not  object  if  they  followed  my 
example  in  their  own  jungle  garden,  but  they 
come  and  do  it  in  mine.  Be  sure  I  never 
catch  them  at  it.  When  I  am  operating 
there  myself  they  often  leap  crashing  into 


I 


m^.w'^ 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


73 

the   rhododendrons    on    the    khud  and    sit 
among   the    branches   watching   me,    whole 
troops  of  them,  but  at  a  stone  or  a  compli- 
ment they  are  off,  bounding  with   childish 
unintelligible  curses  down  the  khud.      Ir  i. 
in  the  early  dawn  before  any  one   is  a.v,  '.-,' 
or  about,  that  they  come  with  freedom  anu 
familiarity  to  walk  where  I  walk  and  .1,,  a, 
I  do.     I  can  perfectly  fancy  them  mincing 
along  m  impertinent  caricature—  I  do  not 
mince  — holding  up  their  tails  with  one  hand 
and  with  the  other  catching  and  clawing  hap- 
hazard at  the  flowers  as  thev  imagine  I  do 
1  wo  hours  later,  when  I  come  out  to  mourn 
md  storm  over  the  withering  fragments  on 
the  drive  not  a  monkey  vexes  the  horizon, 
^nd  they  do  what  some  people  think  worse 
:han   this.     They   come  and   tear  Tiglath- 
^ileser's  carefully  bound   grafts  from  their 
dopted  stems,  and  the  young  shoots  from 
IS  little  new  apple-trees  which   have  trav- 
■led  all  the  way  from  England  to  live  here 
ith  us  and  share  our  limitations  and  our 
lelf    These  were  only  planted  in  February, 
id  one  of  them,  a  beginner  not  three  feet 


i^' 


74 


The  Crow's-Nest 


apple 


on  It 


high,  had  six  of  its  very  own 
yesterday.      It  is  not  a  thing  that  happens 
often,  apples  as  soon  as  that,  and  six ;   and 
Simla  is  a  place  where  there  is  so  little  going 
on  that  we  were  more  excited  about  them, 
perhaps,  than  you  would  be  at  home.    They 
were  small  apples  but  they  had  to  grow,  and 
they  were  growing  yesterday.     This  morn- 
ing while  we  still  dreamed  of  our  apples,  a 
grey  langur  with  a  black  face  ate  the  whole 
crop  at  a  sitting.     So  now  we  can  neither 
bake  them  nor  boil  them  nor  measure  them 
for  publication.     They  have  disappeared  in 
a  grey  langur  with  a  black  face,  and  though  1 
heartily  hope  they  will  inconvenience  him  I 
have   very    little    expectation    of    it;     the 
punitive    laws    of   nature    matter    little    to 
monkeys. 

The  jungle  is  full  of  wild  fruit  trees  newly 
burgeoned,  but  the  monkeys  prefer  the  cul- 
tivated varieties,  they  have  found  out  the 
improved  flavour  even  in  the  young  leaves. 
They  find  out  everything,  not  merely  for 
the  purposes  of  honest  burglary,  but  for  the 
cynical  satisfaction  of   tearing  it  to  pieces. 


The  Crow's-Nest 


72 

Thus,  for  one  graft  that  a  monkey  devours, 
he  pulls  three  out  of  their   bandages  and 
casts  them  on  the  ground,  where  they  are 
of  no  further  use  to  either  men  or  monkeys. 
What  you  plant  with  infinite  pains  they  pull 
up  by  the  roots.     "  These  people  have  done 
something;  let  us  undo  it,"  is  the  one  thought 
they  ever  think,  —  which  shows,  I  suppose, 
that  if  there  are  politics  among  them  they 
govern  strictly  on  party  lines.     It  makes  one 
very  ill-disposed  toward  them.     A  monkey 
has  entered  the  pantry  and  bolted  with  a  jam- 
pot even  while  my  back  was  turned  giving 
out  the  sugar  to  make  more  jam.     A  mon- 
key has  come  in  at  the  verandah  door  and 
ab.':racted  a//  the  bread  and  butter  for  after- 
noon tea,  while  his  accomplice  sat  upon  the 
paling  to  gibber  "  Cave  !  "     This  was  legiti- 
mate larceny,  and  wr-  put  up  with  it.     Thisbe 
said  the  poor  monkey  looked  hungry,  and 
she  would  be  content  with   Madeira  cake, 
adding,  out  of  the  depths  of  her  experience' 
that  it  was  a  pity  the  monkey  that  took  the 
jam  hadn't  taken  the  bread  and  butter  too, 
—  they  went  so  well   together.     We  can  be 


76 


The  Crow's-Nest 


If 


.>•; 


indulgent  to  an  entirely  empty  monkey  ;  we 
have  enough  in  common  with  him  to  under- 
stand his  behaviour,  and  his  villainous  pirate's 
descent  upon  us  is  always   good   comedy. 
But  when  he  picks  the  slates  off  the  roof  of 
your  dwelling,  when  he  privily  enters  your 
husband's  dressing-room  and    abstracts  the 
razor  and  strop-Tiglath-Pileser,  who  would 
not  lend  his  to  a  seraph!  — what  kmd  of 
patience  is  there  which  would  be  equal  to 
the  demand  ?     Monkeys  do  not  throw  stones 
and  break  windows  ;  one  wishes  they  would, 
since  that  would  bring  them  within  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  police  and  it  might  then  be 
possible   to    deal   with    them.      A    monkey 
would  hate  solitary   confinement  above  all 
things.     Often  in  a  troupe  boundmg  from 
tree  to  tree  overhead  across  the  Mall  there 
will  be  one  with  a  collar  and  a  bit  of  rope  or 
chain  hanging  to  it,  escaped  from  capture  and 
free  again  to  range  with  his  fellows  the  limit- 
less lunatic  asylum   the  good  God  has  en- 
dowed for  him  in  thejungle.    Once  he  becan^- 
amenable   to    that   sort   of  punishment    hv 
would  forsake  for  ever,  I  am  sure,  the  haunts 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


77 


of  men;  but  he  is  not  intelligent  enough,  or 
perhaps  he  is  too  intelligent. 

There  are  so  many  of  them.     A  monkey 
census  is  obviously  impossible,  but  I  believe 
if  it  could  be  taken  it  would  show  that  every 
resident  official  had  at  least  one  simian  coun- 
terpart, —  a  statement  which  I  hope  will  not 
give  offence  on  either  side.     An  old  fakir 
on  the  top  of  Jakko  keeps  a  kind  of  retreat 
for  monkeys,   a  monastery   with   the  most 
elastic  rules,  where  indeed  the  domestic  rela- 
tions are  rather  encouraged  than  forbidden. 
He  is  their  ghostly  father,  though  responsi- 
bility for  their  morals  seems  to  sit  upon  him 
lightly;  he  will  call  i:hem  out  of  the  jungle 
for  you  in  hun^eds  to  be  fed.     Then  you 
give  him   four  annas   and   come   away.     A 
pious  Hindoo,  with  sins  to  expiate,  would 
doubtless  give   .uore,  and   the   fakir  would 
profess  to  spend  i'  in  grain  for  rhe  monkeys. 
Here,  by  the  way,  we  have  an  explanation 
of  the  incorrigibility  of  monkeys  which  ha» 
nof  hithert/>  occurred  to  ethnographers  :  they 
TOnsume  all  the  sins  of  the  pious  Hindoos. 
oo  they  thrive  and  multiply  and  gambol  all 


78 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


over  this  town  of  Simla,  its  iiouse-tops  and 
shop-fronts,  its  gardens  and  its  public  places, 
with  none  to  make  them  afraid.  There  are 
two  small  brown  one*  sitting  on  the  paling 
looking  at  mr  at  this  moment,  knowing  per- 
fectly well  that  I  will  never  interrupt  the 
flow  of  my  ideas  to  get  up  and  chase  them 
away. 

Of  course  we  tr;  to  make  Atma  responsi- 
ble, and  he  declares  that  he  persecutes  them 
without  ceasing,  but  we  know  better.      I'.e 
claps  his  hands  at  them  and  shouts,  "  Go, 
brother!"   and    that   is  all    he   does.     Am! 
brother  goes,  to  the  next  convenient  branch. 
We  have  given  Atma  catapults  and  he  tells 
us  that  he  uses  them  every  morning  before 
our  honours  are  awake,  but  we  are  certain  that 
he  hangs  them  on  a  nail.     And  indeed  I  do 
not  think  monkeys  would  be  very  shy  of  a 
house  defended  by  mere  catapults.     Atma, 
however,  has  taken  this  business  of  Tiglath- 
Pileser's  fruit-trees  seriously.     He  had  care- 
fully   protected    every   tree  and   graft  with 
thorns,   but  the  monkeys   slid   their   hands 
in   underneath,  and    reached    up,  and    tore 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


79 


down  the  young  shoots  with  great  strips  of 
the  tender  bark  as  well.  He  was  angry  at 
last,  was  Atma,  and  he  asked  for  a  gun. 

"  You  would  kill  a  monkey  ?  "  we  ex- 
claimed, "  you  would  break  your  one  com- 
mandment ?  ••  and  Atma  cast  down  his  eyes. 
"They  are  budmashr  said  he  (a  wicked 
and  perverse  generation),  "  and  they  eat  the 
work  of  we  people.  Why  should  th  ■>•  not 
be  killed?"  ' 

"No,"  said  the  sahib,  "you  area  .ood 
churchman"  — or  words  to  that  effect  — 
"  I  know  that  you  will  not  kill  a  monkey  " 
And  we  both  looked  at  him  piercingly 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Atma,  cheerfully 
and  shamelessly  recanting,  "  it  would  be  well 
that  a  gun  should  be.  A  gun  is  noise- 
makmg  thing.  These  M«,/^r-people  have 
no  shame,  but  it  will  appear  to  them  that 
h^re  a  gun  is,  and  they  will  not  come. 
Also,  he  added  ferociously,  "  for  that  long- 
ta.l  apple-eating  wallah,  I  will  put  a  stone  in 
the  gun." 

He  had  definite  proposals  to  make  about 
the    gun;    it    had    plainly     been    weighed 


8o         The  Crow's-Nest 


and  considered,  not  being  a  matter  to  be 
lighdy  undertaken.     It  would  not  be  wise 
for  the  sahib  to  buy  it  in  Simla,  where  the 
price  would  be  great  and  the  article  prob- 
ably inferior.     By  our  honours'  favour  he, 
Atma,  would  go  to  his  own  village,  where 
apparently  they  knew  a  thing  or  two  about 
guns,  and  where,  ^mce  they  were  all  poor 
men,  guns  were  also  cheap,  and  there  select 
one  for  our  approbation.     If  our  honours' 
liking  was  not,  he  added,  the  gun  could  be 
sent  back,  but  our  honours'  liking  would  be. 
"  Where   is  your  village,  worthy  one  ? " 
asked  Tiglath-Pileser. 

Atma  waved  his  arm  across  the  purple 
masses  on  the  western  horizon.  "  I  will 
come  to  it  in  three  days,"  he  said,  and 
Tiglath-Pileser  consented. 

"  He  wants  leave,"  said  the  master.  «  The 
gun  is  only  a  pretext,  but  it's  as  good  as  a 
dead  grandmother  any  day.     Let  him  go." 

But  punctually  on  the  evening  of  the 
tenth  day  Atma  returned  from  his  village 
shouldering  a  gun.  Pride  was  in  his  port 
and  pleasure  in  his  countenance.     It  was  an 


The  Crow's-Nest         8  i 


ancient  muzzle-loader,  respectable,  useful 
strong,  ,n  no  way  to  be  compared  to  a  dead 
grandmother.  The  sahib  gave  it  the  hon- 
ourable attention  which  all  sahibs  have  for 
weapons  of  character,  while  Atma  stood  by 
and  spoke  of  it  as  it  had  been  indeed  a 
relative. 

hnncf?°''^M"\''""'^"'S"">«"d  it  shall 
bnng  fear  Now  I  am  but  a  gardener  and 
know  nothing;  but  my  father  is  a  man  with 
understanding  of  all  things,  and  though  there 
were  five  guns  to  be  bought  in  the  village, 
he  forbade  the  other  four.  My  fathe 
showed  me  how  the  ribs  of  this  were  thick 

and  Its  stomach  was  clean -is  it  so,  sahib  P 
-and  how  ,t  would  speak  well  and  loudly 
But  the   price    is   also  great.     Though  my 
father  spoke  for  three  hours,  till  he  was  in 
anger,  the  pri^e  is  also  great  " 

;;  How  much  .V  asked  Tiglath-Pileser. 
It  could   not  be  lessened,"  said  Atma 
anxiously,  "thirteen  rupees." 
About  seventeen  and  sixpence' 

1  he  gun  speaks  well  and  loudly,  and  the 
monkeys  are  much  entertained  by  it.    They 


82         The  Crow's-Nest 


make  off  at  a  report  with  a  great  jabber  of 
concern,  but  they  have  already  discovered 
that  it  is  a  mere  expression  of  opmion,  with 
nothing  in  it  to  hurt,  and  they  come  back 
when   their  nerves    are   soothed  to  hear  it 
again.     They  kti^.v  that  you  cannot  shoot 
your   own    re'r-ons;   they  rest  with   confi- 
dence upon  the  prehistoric  tie,  and  oh,  they 
presume  upon  it !    Too  far,  perhaps.    There 
is  a  broad-faced  Thibetan  in  the  bazaar,  be- 
hind  whose   cheerful    grin    1    am   sure   no 
conscience    resides   at   all.     Every   year  he 
sells  me  pheasants  and  partridges  which  1 
know  he   poaches    from   the    Kingdom   ot 
Patiala—  I  am  sure  he  would  pot  a  fellow- 
poacher  for  a  suitable  consideration.     When 
I  suggest  this,  however,  Tiglath-Pileser  asks 
me  if  I  like  the  idea  of  a  hired  assassin.     1 
do  not  like  the  idea.     I  would  rather  do  it 
myself,  although  even  justifiable  homicide  has 
never  been  a  favourite  amusement  of  mine. 
Shoot   a   monkey?     If  it   is   a   mother- 
monkey,  and  the  baby  that  clings  between 
her   shoulders   is   a  little  one,  you  cannor 
even  throw  a  stone  at  her. 


The  Crow's-Ncst         83 

them  hke  th.s.     I  wonder  whether  the  con 
stant  spectacle  of  his  original,  glorious  free- 
dom may  not  produce  a  tendency  to  revert 

to  h.s  ongmal  habits  even  in  a'brass   ha" 
It  s  a  fut:le  speculation,  but  there  is  a  thrill 

Jje  h^a.  and  the  b.t  of  .d  tape  hanging  to' 

What  would  you  do  about  it -about  this 
Plaguejf.t  plagued  you?     And  does  it  no 
niarlc.  hke  a  picture  in  a  book  of  travels   "he 

■stance  that  lies  between  us.  that  I  Id 
hus  complam    to  you.  not  .f  sparrows  or 
oxes  or  rats  or  rabbits  or  any  of  the  ordi- 
nary  pests  of  civilization,  but  of  being  over- 
run-simply  overrun  -  by  monkeys  - 


Chapter    VIII 


THIS  is  going  to  be  a  day  of  roses, 
a  grand  opening  day.    They  have 
been    getting   ready    for   weeks; 
every  morning  there  has  been  a 
show    of  pink  promises,    half  kept,    white 
hints  and  creamy  suggestions,  and  here  and 
there  a  sweet  full-blown  advertisement ;  but 
so  much  has    been    suddenly   done   that    I 
think  the  bushes  must  have  sat  up  all  nigb.t 
to  enable  the  garden  definitely  to  make  this 
morning  its  chief  summer  announcement  — 
the  roses  are  out.     The  shelf  holds  a  great 
many  roses,  its  widest  part   indeed,  where 
the  house  stands,  is   quite    taken  up  by  a 
large  bed  of  them  which  was  meant  to  be 
oval,  and  only  is  not  because  no  design  in 
this  country  c:in  ever  be  described  by  even 
an   approximately  exact   term.     That  is   at 
the  side  of  the  house  ;  the  drive  runs  past  it. 
There  is  another  bed,  an  attempted  oblong, 


The  Crow's-Ncst  8 


between  the  fiont  door  and  the  prccipiccl.y 
way  of  bc,ng  devoted   to  then,,  and   bcsid 
tha     hey   have   made  roo.n  for  themselves 
.n  all  the  borders  where  there  may  or  may 

not   be   accommodation    for    other   people- 
and  th      ch„,,^  ^,  ^^^,,_  ^^^^  P  J^e  . 

that  looks  out  mto  the  garden. 

It  is  our  privilege  to  entertain  larcelv 
among  roses;  I  don't  believe  there  is 
another  shelf  m  Simla  that  holds  so  many 

And  I  will  hasten  to  say  this  for  then,,  that 
■n  all  my  socal  experience  rhey  offer  the 
best  exa:  ,ple  of  hospitality  being  its  own 
reward,    which,    of    course,     go..'  withou 

aymg;  but  ,t,s  difficult  to  sit  down  for  the 
first  t,mem  the  year  before  the  glory  of  the 
roses,  and  refrain  fron,  offering  them  a  polite- 
ness of  some  sort,  even  one  that  might  be 
^ken  for  granted      I  will  add  a  compliment 
wh.ch  ,s   not  perhaps  quite   so  lamentably 
bvous.    There  are  people- moderns,  deca- 
'ients-who  will  not  subscribe  to  the  para- 
mountcy  of  the  rose.     They  produce  other 
flowers       hyacuuhs.    violets,    daffodils -to 
"h.ch   they    attach   the   label   of  their  poor 


wifa^aMstiiimiaMimm 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TBI   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


_^  -APPLIED  IIVHGE     Inc 

=— V;  16^3   EqsI    Main    Street 

S*:^  Rochester.    New    York         14609        USA 

'SS:  (716)    4B2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^=  (716)    388  -  59B9  -  Fox 


k  ,.m     'mk\^.-  ^m'  •'    H,  '^^».v.-  J^Mi&^l 


86         The  Crow's-Nest 

preference.     I  will  not  dispute  any  taste  in 
theory,  but  1    will  say  this  broad,  general 
thing  which  is  evident  and  plain:   once  the 
rose?  are  in  bloom,  nothing  else  in  the  gar- 
den  matters.     The  rose   may  or  may    not 
be  queen,  but  when  she  appears  the  other 
flowers  dwindle  into  pretty  little  creatures  of 
no  great  pretension  who  may  come  out  or 
not'at  their  convenience.     You  w>ll  adm, 
that  if  there  is  a  rose  m  sight  you  do  not 
loo.  at  anything  els.     As  to  the    affod.K 

thev  came  up  a  month  ago,  ana      i-u 

and   put   them    in   the   drawmg-room   and 

thought   no    more    about   it. 

So  the  garden  for  me  this  morning  means 
roses(dear  me,  yes,  those  GloiredeDijons 

alone  command  it  for  yards  in  every  direc- 
tion), and  the  excitement  of  it,  the  pure  keen 
delicious  excitement  of  it,  makes  me  wonde 
whether   a  simple   li^  led  in  a  cane  ch.r 
under  a  pencil-cedar  is  not  a  better  back 
ground  for  the  minor  sensations  than  the 
most  elaborate  existence  indoors.     Bu    that 
is   another    truism;   elaboration    is   alway 
bad,  it  prevents  one's  seeing   things.     An 


I 


The  Crow's-Nest         87 


existence  obscured  by  curtains  and  frescoed 
with   invitations    from   the    Princess    would 
never,  I  am  surely  convinced,  afford  me  the 
exquisite  joy  and  wonder,  the  sense  of  ex- 
panded miracle,   that  reigns   in  me  at   this 
moment.      I   must    be    allowed    to    say    so, 
though  nothing,  I  know,  is  so  dull  as  the 
detailing  of  another  person's  sensations.     It 
will  be  admitted  that  I  do  not  often  gush, 
that  is  a  claim   I    make  with  a  good  con- 
science;  and   if  I   were  forbidden   to  write 
emotionally    about    roses    this    morning    I 
should  simply  not  write  at  all,  which  would 
be  a  breach  of  good  manners  and  a  loss  of 
time.     If  the  truth  were  confessed,  I  have 
wasted    hours   already  congratulating  them 
upon  their  happy  advent,  I  have  been  much 
led  away  among  them    from   my   fountain 
pen;   idleness   is    so   perfect   with   a   rose. 
After   putting   down    that   stupidity    about 
our  hospitality  being  its  own  reward,   I  fell 
into  unnumbered  asterisks,  raptures  in  the 
manner  of  M.   Pierre   Loti,    and  only  re- 
framed    from   making    them    because    one 
would   not   gasp   too    obviously   after   the 


88 


The  Crow's-Nest 


master.  And  now  that  I  have  pulled  :ny 
chair  into  the  thickest  shade  of  the  pencil- 
cedar —  it  is  little  better  after  all  than  a 
spoke  to  sit  under,  wheeling  with  the  sun  — 
and  am  once  more  prepared  to  offer  you  my 
best  attention,  down  upon  me  descends 
Delia,  waving  a  parasol  from  afar.  I  must 
introduce  Delia  ;  she  is  a  vagabond  and  an 
interruption,  but  I  shall  be  extremely  glad 
to  see  her. 

I  wonder  whether  anybody  has  ever  felt 
the  temptation  of  dealing  quite  honestly 
with  the  thousand  eyes  that  listen  to  him,  and 
putting  in  the  interruptions  as  well  as  the 
other  full-stops  that  occur  in  the  course  of  a 
morning's  work  in  manuscript,  saying  in 
brackets  exactly  where  he  was  compelled  to 
leave  off  on  account  of  a  rose  or  a  Delia. 
One  would  then  see  precisely  how  far  such  a 
one's  flight  carried  him,  and  how  long,  after 
he  had  been  brought  to  earth,  it  took  his 
beating  pinions  to  regain  the  ether.  One 
might  share  his  irritation  at  being  interrupted, 
or  one  might  wish  him  interrupted  oftener;  it 
it  would  all  depend.     At  all  events  it  would 


vn 


Jus,  then  Thube  wi.hed  eo  know  ,h„h„ 

novel  P'^"  °^  ^^^"  '  "^-d-class 

i^ei  a.     What  a   demand   she   makes 
"Pon  one's  reticence!     "Finish   it  n      m 
and  nirt  r>,  J^inisn   it  quick  y 

q    ck  V    aT    """^  '■""•"     '°  '  «-''^^d  it 
4«'ckly,  as  you  see.     "J  have  oas.pH  ^^,• 

-y  several  times  lately,"  she  e:pE:l:;;'J 


The  Crovv's-Nest 


I 

i 


90 

have  always  resisted  the  temptation  of  run- 
ning in.     But  this  morning  something  drew 

me  down." 

"They  haven't  been  properly  out  be- 
fore," I  remark.  There  is  no  use,  after  all, 
in  being  too  obtuse.  But  I  can't  go  on  jug- 
gling with  the  present  lense.  Delia  is  gone 
now.     I  shall  treat  her  as  a  historical  fact. 

«  I  hope  you  remember  what  a  lot  you 
used  to  send  me  last  year,"  she  continued, 
«  and  how  grateful  I  always  was."     I  said  I 
remembered.     "Yes,"    she   sighed.     "You 
set  yourself  a  very  good  example,"  and  at 
that    I    got  up  and   sacrificed   to  her.  with 
gladness ;  because  if  Delia  ever  sufers  cre- 
niation  the  last  whiff  of  her  to  fioat  sadly 
away  will  be  her  passion  for  a  rose.     There 
are  people  who  might  dissolve  in  suggestion 
before  I  would  offer  up  a  single  petal,  which 
is  deplorable  in  me,  for  if  you  want  a  thing 
badly  enough  to  hint  for  it,  you  must  want  it 
very  badly  indeed.     Nevertheless,  I  think  it 
a  detestable  habit,  worse  than  punning ;  and 
nothing  rouses  in  me  a  spirit  of  fiercer,  more 
implacable  opposition  than  a  polite,  gentle, 


I 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^ 9^ 

well-considered  hint.  Delia,  of  course 
doesn't  hint,  she  prods,  and  you  accept  her 
elbow  with  delight,  sharing  the  broad  and 
conscious  humour  of  it. 

I  am  glad   Delia  dropped  in,  I  want  to 
talk  about  her;  she  holds  to  me  so  much 
of  the  charm  of  this  irresponsible  impious 
little  Parad.se  that  we  have  made  for  our- 
selves up  here  above  the  clouds  and  con- 
necL>..d  by  wire  with  Westminster.     A  wire 
is  not  a  very  substantial  thing,  and  that,  if 
you  leave  out  Mr.   Kipling,  is  all  that  at- 
taches us  to  the  rest  of  the  world.     If  an  ill- 
disposed  person,  the  Mullah   Powindah  or 
1"°'^''-  ^''°"l'i  °"^  day  cut  it,  we  might 
float  off  anywhere,  and  be  hardly  more  un- 
related to  the  planet  we  should  lodge  upon 
than  we  are  to  our  own.     The  founders  of 
5>imla-may  they  dwell  in  beatitude  forever 
-saw   their  golden    chance   and    took   it 
l-ar  in  and  fir  up  they  climbed  to  build  it 
and   not   being  gods,  but   only   men,  they 
thought   well    to   leave   the   more   obvious 
forms  of  misery  out  of  their  survey  plans, 
ihey   brought  with    them   many  desirable 


92 


The  Crovv's-Ncst 


things,  not  quite  enough,  but  many;  poverty 
and  sorrow  and  age  they  left  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hill.     They  barred  out  greed  and  ruin 
by  forbidding  speculation ;  they  warned  otF 
the  spectre  of  decrepitude  by  the  "  age  lim- 
it "  which  sends  you  after  fifty-five  to  whiten 
and  perish  elsewhere.     This  is  an  ordinance 
that  many  call  divine,  for  want  of  a  better 
word,  but  there  ought  to  be  a  better  word. 
They  made  it  so  expensive  that  the  widow 
in  her  black  takes  the  first  ship  to  Balham, 
and  so  attractive  that  the  widower  promptly 
marries  again.     But  they  also  arranged  with 
Death  that  he  should  seldom  show  himself 
upon  the  Mall,  so  nobody  has  rue  to  weiir, 
even  with  a  difference.      From  ten  to  five 
we  compose  Blue  Books,  at  least  our  hus- 
bands do;   the  rest   of  the  time  we  gallop 
about   on    little   country-bred    ponies,   and 
vigorously  dance,  even  to   fifty-four  years, 
eleven   months,  and  thirty  days;  and  with 
full  hearts  and  empty  heads  —  and  this  is  the 
consummation  of  bliss  — congratulate  oi  r- 
selves.     There  are  houses  where  they  pi:iv 
games  after  dinner.     I   myself  before  I  be- 


The  Crow'ti-Ncst 


93 


came  the  aryadess  of  a  pencil-cedar,  have 
played  games  after  dinner,  and  felt  as  inno- 
cent and  expansive  as  I  did  at  nine. 

Delia  draws  her  breath   in  all   this,   and 
opens  a  wicked  Irish  eye  upon  it  — ah,  what 
Delia  doesn't  see!  — and  is  to  me  the  gay 
flower  of  it,  delicately  exhaling  an  essence 
of  Paris.      I  approve  myself  of  just  a  sus- 
picion of  essence  of  Paris.     We  are   none 
of  us  beasts   of  the  field.     I    regret  to  say 
that   she   misquotes.      Her   gloves    fit    per- 
fectly, and  she  carries  herself  like  a  lily  of 
the   field,    but   she    misquotes.      It    is    the 
single  defect  upon  what  she  would  be  an- 
noyed  to   hear  me  call   a  lovely  character. 
I  mention  it  because  it  is  the  only  one.      If 
there  were  others,  I  should  allow  them  to 
be  taken    for  granted,  and    protect  myself 
Irom  the  suspicion  of  exaggerated  language. 
That  does  not  look  like  an  absolutely  seri- 
ous statement,  but  if  I  am  writing  nonsense  it 
IS  entirely  the  fault  of  Delia.     She  is  packed 
with  nonsense  like  a  siphon,  and  if  you  sit 
much  out-of-doors  you  become  very  absorb- 
ent.    She  had  been  paying  calls,  and  I  was 


94 


The  Crovv's-Ncst 


obliged  to  restore  her  with  vermouth  and 
a  biscuit.  She  was  bored  and  fatigued,  and 
she  buried  her  nose  in  her  roses  and  closed 
her  eyes  expressively.  "The  ladies  of 
India,"  she  remarked,  "  are  curiously  ahkc. 
Is  it  our  mode  of  thought  ?  Is  it  because 
we  have  the  same  kind  of  husbands  ?  " 

"So  Tie  are  much  better  than  others,"  1 
interrupted.  . 

"  I  saw  eleven  of  us,"  she  went  on  with 
depression,  «  one  after  the  other,  this  morn- 
in<T  I  could  n't  help  thinking  of  articles 
on  a  counter  marked  'all  this  size  five  and 
elevenpence-ha'penny.' " 

«  Never  mind,  Delia,"  said  I,  "  you  are 
not  at  all  alike." 

"  Oh,  and  nobody,"  she  hastened  to  apolo- 
gize, "  could  be  less  alike  than>o«."   ^^ 

"  And  yet  we  are  quite  different,"  I  re- 
plied; and  Delia,  with  a  glance  of  re- 
proach and  scorn  and  laughter  said,  "  You 

jackass ! " 

Now  in  anybody  else's  mouth  this  term 
would  be  almost  opprobrious,  but  from 
Delias   it   drops   affectionately.       It    is   an 


The  C.uw's-Ncst 


95 

acknowledgment,  a  compliment,  it  helps  to 
lighten  the  morning.  It  is  not  everybody 
who  could  call  one  a  jackass  with  impunity 
hut  ,t  IS  not  everybody  who  would  think 
of  domg  ,t.  I  should  not  wish  the  epithet 
to  become  the  fashion,  but  when  Delia  offers 
It  I  roll  It  under  my  tongue. 

"  I  am  convinced,"  said  I,  "  rhat  there 
13  nothing  m  the  world  so  valuable  as  per- 
sonality. I  mean  of  course,  to  other  people. 
As  you  justly  remark,  Delia,  we  are  round 
pebbles  on  this  coral  strand,  worn  smooth 
by  rubbing  against  nothing  but  each  other. 
It  IS  an  obscure  and  little  regarded  form 
of  the  great  Imperial  sacrifice,  but  I  wish 
somebody  would  call  attention  to  it  :«  the 
Dajly  Mail  and  wring  a  tear  from  the  Brit- 
ish public.  You  have  still  a  slight  uneven- 
n«s  of  surface,  my  Delia,  and  that  is  why 
1  love  you.  If  you  had  a  good  sharp  corner 
or  two,  I  should  never  let  you   out  of  my 

"And  to  think,-  said  Delia,  finely,  "  how 
"ttle,  m  England,  they  prize  and  value  their 
precious  angular  old  maids  I  " 


g6 


The  Crovv's-Ncst 


"Oh,  in  Kngland,"  I  rq>lifa,  "  I  th.nK 
they  are  almost  too  nuch  blessed.  1  her^'  is 
such  a  thing  as  tranciuiUity  and  repose.  You 
don't  want  the  personal  equation  at  evcrv 
meal.  In  England,  especially  in  the  acadenm 
parts,  you  can't  see  the  wood  for  the  trees. 

"  And  in  America,"  observed   Delia,  "  1 
suppose  it  must  be  worse." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  said  out  of  my  experience', 
»  in  /.mcrica  there  is  as  yet  great  uniformity 
of  peculiarity,"  but  this  was  going  very  tar 
afield  on  a  warm  day,  and  we  left  the  matter 

there.  .  .  ,     ,. 

«  I  don't  think  I  like  individuality  m 
young  men,"  remarked  Delia,  thoaghttullv, 
«  In  young  men  it  seems  a  liberty,  almc.t 
an  Impertinence." 

1  can  imagine  the  normal  attitude  ot 
young  men  toward  Delia  being  quite  san,- 
fvine,  but  I  let  her  go  on. 

"I    have  just  met  an  A.D.C.  riding  up 
the  Mall   smoking   a  pipe,"  she   continvad. 
"  He  took  off  his  hat  to  me  like  a  bandit. 
Now    Simla's    traditions    of    behaviour   are 
very   strict   and    the    choicest    of  them   are 


The  Crow's- Nest         97 


lockci'  up  in  the  tenue  of  an  aide-de-camp. 
"  It  was  quite  a  shock,"  said  Delia. 

"All  things  are  possible  in  nature,  but 
some  are  rare,"  1  told  her.  "It  is  doubt- 
less a  remote  effect  of  all  this  Irregular 
Horse  in  South  Africa.  You  miv  live  to 
l)o.ist  that  you  have  seen  an  aiac-de-camp 
ride  up  the  Mall  at  Simla  smoking  a  com- 
mon clay." 

"  It  wasn't  a  common  clay,"  she  corrected 
me. 

"  But  it  will  be  when  you  boast  of  it,"  I 
assured  her.  «' Come  and  see  my  home 
for  decayed  gentlewomen." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  cried,  and 
would  have  buffeted  me ;  but  I  led  her  with 
circumstance  to  the  edge  of  the  shelf,  over 
which  appeared  lower  down  on  the  khud 
side,  another  small  projection  which  tried  to 
be  a  shelf  and  couldn't,  but  was  still  flat 
enough  for  purposes.  There  were  sitting, 
in  respectable  retirement,  all  the  venerable 
roses  that  had  outlived  delight,  the  common 
kinds  and  those  that  had  grown  little  worth 
in  the  service  of  the  summer. 
7 


9  8         The  Crow's-Nest 


"They  had  to  come  out,"  I  explained, 
"and  I  couldn't  find  it  m  my  heart  to 
throw  them  on  the  ash-heap."  ^ 

"With  all  their  modest  roots  exposed, 
put    in    Delia.      "Cruel    it    would    hsve 

^ « So  I  planted  them  down  there,  and  I 
see  that   they're  not   altogether  neglected 
They  get  an  allowance  of  four  buckets  of 
water  a  day  and  a  weeding  once  a  fortnight, 
I  explained  further,  "but  what  I  fancy  they 
must  feel  most  is  that  nobody  ever  picks 
them.     I  can't  get  down  to  do  that.        __ 
"  I  'm  sure  they  look  most  comfortable, 
Delia  assured   me.     "What   do   they  care 
about  being  picked?     You  l°«e  th^^  ^^"'^^ 
early"-oh,   Delia  1 -" What    they 
really  enjoy  is  to  sit  in  the  sun  and  talk 
about  their  gout.     But  I   know  what  you 
mean  about  throwing  away  a  flower    -and 
Delia's  eyes  grew  more  charming  with  the 
se./iment  behind  them.     "Somebody  gave 
me  a  sweet-pea  yesterday  and  the  poor  little 
thing  faded  on  me,  as  we  say  in  Ireland,  and 
of  course  I  ought  to  have  thrown  it  away, 


The  Crow's-Nest 


99 


but  I  could  n't.     What  do  you  think  I  did 
with  It?"     She  looked  half  ashamed. 
"What?" 

"//«/  //  in  my  pocket!"  said  this  dear 
Delia. 


Chapter 


IX 


\\%. 


I  AM  not  getting  on  at  all;  It  .s  day 
since    Ddiawas    here   and    I    wrot 
about   her.     There   is  certamly  th,s 
advantage  in  the  walls  of  a  house 
they  make  a  fold  for  your  mind,  which  mus 
brolse  inside,  picking  up  what  .t  can      Bu 
existence  in  a  garden  was  n°'  —  ^^.^'^^ 
interfered  with  by  a  pen ;  we  have  the  be  t 
eJon  for  believing  that  Adam  never  wrote 
for   publication,   much   less    Eve,   who  of 
^       u       „„.  thinks  of  it,  was  absorbed 
course,  when  one  thmKs  oi     . 
at  that  time  in  the  first  prmcples  of  dress 
making.     I   envy  her   that   ongmal   s  am 
sewing  is  an  ideal  occupation  >"  /  garlem 
yL  L  be  for  ever  looking  up  and  the  hand 
goes  on  of  itself;  everything  rhymes  w  h 
'your  needle,  and  your  mind  seems  stimuli 

by  its  perfunctory  .  .permtendence  to  sp  „ 
aid  weave  other  things,  often   lovely  - 
interesting  things  which  It  IS  a  pam  to  have 


The  Crow's-Nest 


lOI 


forgotten    by  dinner-time.     I    should   very 
much  prefer   fine  stitching  to  composition 
out  here  if  I  could  choose.     One  might  then 
look  at  the  sun  on  the  leaves  without  the 
Itch  and  necessity  to  explain  just  what  it  is 
like.     Moreover,  there  is  always  this  worry  • 
you  cannot  make  a  whole  chapter  out  of  the 
sun  on  the  leaves,  even  at  different  angles, 
and  yet  before  that  happy  circumstance  what 
else  IS  there  to  say.?     But   how  little  use 
there  is  in    crying   for  what   one  was    not 
meant  to  have.     The  fairy  godmother  who 
put  this  unwilling  instrument  into  my  hand 
and  denied  me  a  needle  will  have  somethine 
to  answer  for  if  ever  I  meet  her.     Mean- 
while I  might  as  well  confess  that  my  finest 
stitching  only  makes  mirth  for  Thisbe,  and 
lay  a  violence,"  as  Stevenson  advises,  upon 
my  will  to  other  ends. 

It  is  the  very  height  of  the  season  in  the 
garden.  The  roses  have  held  several  draw- 
ing-rooms and  practically  everybody  is  here 
i>weet-peas  flutter  up  two  of  the  verandah 
pillars  the  rest  are  dark  with  honeysuckle 
and    heavy    with    Marechal    Niels.      The 


to  the  r  corner  of  the  garoen. 

..„  c,v  that  thev  resemble   blue 
to  venture  to  say  that  tn  y 
3,,,,  in  a  green  sky,  H  were  sure  ^^^ 

itirx::f  .rrnd  pals  o. .. 
rirrs^is^a:t-ity.th^- 

he  evolved  human  intelhgence  ^^^  ^e^^^^^^^^ 
a   likeness   between   any  two    o     the   Ph_ 

nomena  about  It,  and  ^P^f ''^^f^.f ,, 
ception,  attracted  to  wisdom  and  sti    ed 
,;      Those  indeed  were   days   to   live  in, 
:Llv."*l.g  ..»  ».,..e«us.y  .o  c.„ 


The  Crow's-Nest       103 

and  inherit  and  nothing  was  exploited,  ex- 
plained, laid  bare,  when  the  great  sweet 
thoughts  were  ail  to  think  and  heroism  had 
not  yet  received  its  molecular  analysis,  and 
babies  equipped  with  an  instinctive  percep- 
tion of  the  fundamental  weakness  of  social- 
istic communism  were  neither  born  nor 
thought  of.  These  seem  violent  reflections 
to  make  in  a  garden,  and  they  may  well  be 
obscured  behind  the  long  bed  of  poppies 
and  field-daisies  and  more  bluets  that  runs 
along  the  side  of  the  house  under  the  win- 
dows that  support  the  roses.  If  you  can 
tell  me  for  what  primitive  reason  poppies 
and  field-daisies  and  corn-flowers  go  well 
together  I  had  rather  you  did  n't. 

I  have  clumps  and  clumps  of  hollyhocks, 
and  a  balustrade  of  them,  pink  and  white 
ones,  on  each  side  of  the  steps  that  run 
down  from  the  verandah  in  front  of  the 
drawinr-room  door.  It  is  an  unsophisti- 
cated thing,  the  single  hollyhock,  like  a 
bashful  school-  child  in  a  sun-bonnet.  To 
what  you  will  you  cannot  make  it  feel  at 
home  among  the  beaux  and  belles  of  high 


life  in  the  garden;  it  never  looks  really 
tZ  excep't  just  inside  a  cottage  pahng 
Sa  bunch  of  rhubarb  on  one  s>de  and  a 
Tande  of  "old  man  "on  the  other.  Stdl  it 
;:t;ood  and  grateful  flower  >n  whateve. 

station  it  pleases  the  sun  to  call  it  It  gets 
long  on  L  merest  necessities  of  hfew^^^^ 
time!  are  bad  and  water  scarce,  and  Ao-  "; 
with  anything  like  a  chance,  twice  in  the  ea 
Ion  One  cannot,  after  all,  encourage  cla 
Sin,  in  the  garden;  there  every  one  mu 

stand  on  his  own  roots,  and  take  h.s  sh  r 
of  salts  and  carbon  dioxide  without  preced 
:„ce  and  the  hollyhocks  in  my  garden  re- 
ceive as  much  consideration  as  anybody. 
Petunias  are  up  all  over  the  place,  purple 

J  white  and  striped-     I  ^new  by  exper. 

feet  of  the  roses,  flaunting  over  the  forget 
l-nots.  unexpected  in  a   box  of  seedhng 


The  Crow's-Nest        105 

asters.  Now  if  I  were  going  to  recognize 
social  distinctions  in  the  garden,  which  I  am 
not,  I  should  call  the  good  petunia  a  person 
unmistakably  middle-class.  Whether  it  is  this 
incapacity  of  hers  to  see  a  snub,  or  her  very 
full  skirt,  or  her  very  high  colour,  the  petunia 
always  seems  to  me  a  bourgeoise  little  lady 
in  her  Sunday  best,  with  her  hair  smooth  and 
her  temper  well  kept  under  for  the  occasion. 
I  think  she  leads  her  family  a  nagging  life, 
and  goes  to  church  regularly.  One  should 
always  mass  them ;  a  single  petunia  here  and 
there  among  the  community  of  flowers  is 
more  desolate  and  ineffective  than  most 
maiden  ladies.  Rather  late  this  spring  we 
discovered  a  corner  of  the  bed  in  front  of 
the  dining-room  window  to  be  quite  empty, 
and  what  to  put  in  we  could  n't  think,  and 
were  considering,  when  Atma  told  us  that 
he  knew  of  a  thousand  petunias  homeless 
and  roaming  the  shelf.  I  quite  believed 
him,  and  bade  him  gather  them  in,  with  such 
a  resultant  blaze  of  purple  as  I  shall  never 
in  future  be  without.  The  border  just 
beyond  them  is  simply  shouting  with  yellow 


,o6       The  Crow's-Nest 


coreopsis,  and  behind  that  nse  the  dark 
branches  of  the  firs  on  the  khud  side,  and 
between  these,  very  often  in  broken  pictures 

sharp  against   the  blue,  the  jagged  points 
ndpea's  of  the  far  snows      All  thievery 

morning  the  person  has  w.th  her  eggs  and 
bacon  who  sits  opposite  the  dmmg-room 
window.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the  other 
members  of  my  family  object  to  the  glare 

Atma  has  a  liberal  and  progressive  mind 
toward  the  garden;   he  is  always  trying  to 
smuggle  some  new  thing  into  it.     In  out-ot- 
Lway   corners    I    constantly    come   upon 
perfect'strangers,  .ell-rooted  and  entirely  a 
home,  and  when  I  ask  him  by  whose  ordr 
they  ;ere  admitted,  he  smiles  apologet.aUy 
and  says  that  without  doubt  they  will  b 
very    beautiful,  and  that  his  brother   gav 
them  to  him.     He  can  never  tell  me  the 
name      «  It  will  be  so  high,"  he  shows  me 
with  his  hand,  stooping,  "and  the  flower 

will  be  red,  simply  red  it  will  --■"^^-  J 
look  at  it  without  enthusiasm,  and  weafciy 
let  it  stay.  Generally  it  «  arrives  "  a  com- 
mon little  disappointment,  but  once  a  great 


The  Crow's-Nest        107 


leggy  thing  turned  out  an  evening  primrose, 
and  I  knew,  before  it  was  too  late,  that  I  had 
been  entertaining  an  angel  unawares. 

"  To  grow  a  little  catholic,"  writes  Steven- 
son, "is  the  compensation  of  years."  Dear 
shade,  is  it  so  ?  In  the  spiritual  outlook, 
perhaps,  in  the  moral  retrospect,  —  but  in 
matters  of  taste,  in  likes  and  dislikes.'  You 
who  wrote  nothing  lightly  must  have  proved 
this  dispensation,  poorer  spirits  can  only 
wish  it  more  general.  I  remember  youth 
as  curious  and  enterprising,  hospitable  to 
everything,  and  I  begin  to  find  the  middle 
years  jealously  content  with  what  they  have. 
Who,  when  he  has  reached  the  age  of  all 
the  world,  looks  with  instinctive  favour  upon 
anything  new  ?  An  acquaintance,  who  may 
create  the  common  debt  of  friendship ;  you 
are  long  since  heavily  involved.  An  author, 
who  may  insist  upon  intimately  engaging 
your  intelligence,  —  a  thing  you  feel,  after  a 
time,  to  be  a  liberty  in  a  new-comer.  Or 
even  a  flower,  offering  another  sentiment  to 
the  little  store  that  holds  some  pain  already. 
Now  this  godetia.     I   suppose  it  argues  a 


io8       The  Crow's-Nest 


de,.th  of  ignorance,  but  until  Mr.  Johnson 
recommended  it  to  me  in  tiie  spring,  I  had 
never  heard  of  godetia.     Mr.    Johnson  is 
the  source  of  seeds  and  bulbs  for  Simla,  we 
all  go  to  him;  but  I,  for  one,  always  come 
away  a  little  ruffled  by  his  habit  of  referring 
to  everything  by  its  Latin  name,  and  plainly 
showing  that   his  respect  for  you  depends 
upon   your    understanding    him.       I    have 
wished  to  preserve  Mr.  Johnson's  respect, 
and  things  have  come  up  afterward  that  I 
did  not   think  I    had   ordered.     However, 
this  is  by  the  way.     Mr.  Johnson  assured 
me   that  godetia   had   a   fine  fleshy  flower 
of  variegated  colours,  would  be  an  abundant 
bloomer,  and   with  reasonable  care  should 
make  a  good  appearance.     I  planted  it  with 
misgivings,   and   watched   its   advent    with 
aloofness,  I  knew  I  should  n't  recognize  it, 
and  I  did  n't.     I  had  never  seen  it  before,  I 
very  nearly  said  so ;  and  at  my  time  of  life, 
with  so  many  old  claims  pressing,  I  could 
not  attempt  a  new  affection.     And  I  have 
taken  the  present  opportunity,  when  Atma's 
back  is  turned,  and  pulled  it  all  up.    Besides 


Crow's-Ncst      109 


it  may  have  been  fleshy,  but  it  was  n't  pretty, 
and  the  slugs  ate  it  till  its  appearance  was 
disgraceful. 

I    suppose   our    love   of  flowers    is   im- 
pregnated  with  our    love   of  life   and    our 
immense  appreciation   of  each    other.     We 
hand  our  characteristics  up  to  God  to  figure 
in;  we  look  for  them  in  animals  with  delight 
and  laughter,  and  it  is  even  our  pleasure  to 
find   them    out  here  in  the  garden.     Who 
cares    much  for  lupins,  for  example ;    they 
are  dull    fellows,    they  have  no   faces ;    yet 
who  does  not  care  for  every  flower  with  a 
heart  and  eyes,  that  gives  back  your  glance 
to  you  and  holds  up  its  head  bravely  to  any 
day's  luck,  as  you  would  like  to  do. 

But  it  is  growing  late.  I  can  still  see  a 
splendid  crimson  cactus  glooming  at  me  from 
his  tub  in  the  verandah  ;  the  rest  of  the 
garden  has  drawn  away  into  the  twilight. 
Only  the  honeysuckle,  that  nobody  noti.es 
when  the  sun  is  bright  and  the  flowers  all 
talk  at  once,  sends  out  a  timid  sweetness  to 
the  night  and  murmurs,  "  I  am  here."  If  I 
might  have  had  a  seam  to  do,  it  would  have 


no       The  Crow's-Ncst 


been  finished;  hut  instead  there  has  been  this 
vexatious  chapter,  which  only  announces, 
hen  all  is  said  and  done,  that  another 
human  being  has  spent  a  day  in  the  garden 
I    intended    to    write    about    the    applied 

affections.  ,        . 

But  it  is  too  late  even  for  the   misap- 
plied affections,  generally  thought,  I  bel.cvc, 
the  more  interesting  presentment.     Happy 
Thisbe  on  the  verandah,  conscious  ot  an- 
other bud   to   her   tapestry,  glances  at  the 
fading   west   and   makes   ready  to   put   all 
away.     I  will  lay  down  my  pen,  as  she  docs 
her  needle,  and   gather   up  my  sheets  and 
scraps,  as  she  does  her  silks  and  wools  ;  and 
humbly,  if  I  can  get  no  one  else  to  do  it  for 
me,  carry  my  poor  pattern  into  the  house. 


Chapter   X 


THE    Princess    has   a   hill    almost 
entirely    to    herself.      She    lives 
there  in  a  castle  almost  entirely 
made  of  stone,  with  turrets   and 
battlements.     Her  affectionate  subjects  clus- 
ter about  her  feet  in  domiciles  walled  with 
mud  and    principally  roofed  with   kerosene 
tins,  but  they  cheerfully  acknowledge  this  to 
be  right  and  proper,  and  all  they  can  pay 
for.     One  of  the  many  ?dvantages  of  being 
a  princess  is  that    you  never   have  to   put 
down  anything  for  house-rent;  there  is  always 
a  castle  waiting   for   you    and    a   tax-payer 
1-ppy  to   paper   it.     The   world   will    not 
allow  that  it  is  responsible  to  a  beggar  for 
a  crust ;  but  it  is  delighted  to  admit  that  it 
owes  every  pri.icess  a  castle.     It  is  a  curious 
world;  but  it  is  quite  right,  for  princesses 
are  to  be  encouraged  and  beggars  are  n*t. 


m 


1 1 2       The  Crow's-Nest 

The    Princess   is    married    to   the    Roy- 
Regent,  who  puts  his  initial  upon  Resolu- 
tions and  writes  every  week  to  the  Secretary 
of  State;    but   it   is   the    Pnncess   wao   .s 
generally    "at    home,"    and    certamly    the 
Eel'  who  matters.      The    Roy-Regent 
may  induce  his  Government  to  make  Reso- 
lutions ;  the  Princess  could  persuade  it    I 
am  sure,  to  break  them -if  she  wanted  to. 
Unfortunately  we  are  not  permitted  to  see 
that  comedy,  which  would  be  adorable.     She 
does  not  want   to.     She   is   not   what  you 
would  call  a  political  princess ;    I  have  no 
doubt  she  has  too  much  else  to  do.    To  b.gm 
with,only  to  begin  with.she  has  to  go  on  being 
beautiful  and  kind  and  unruffled  ;  she  has  to 
keep  the  laughter  in  her  eyes  and  the  gentle- 
n    sin  her  heart;  she  has  to  be  wuty  with- 
out being  cynical,  and  -itiated  without  be.ng 
h^rd.     She  has  to  see  through  all  our  htt  e 
Sodges  to  win  her  favour  and  not  entire  y 

despise  us.  and  to  accept  our  rather  dull 
very  daily  homage  without  getting  sick  and 
Tred  of  us.     To  say  nothing  of  the   Roy- 
Regent  and  the  babies  who  have  some  claims, 


The  Crow's-Nest 


13 


I  suppose,  though  we  are  apt  to  talk  about 
the  Princess  as  if  she  were  here  solely  to 
hold  her  Majesty's  vice-Drawing-rooms  and 
live  up  to  a  public  ideal.  All  the  virtues,  in 
short,  which  the  rest  of  us  put  on  of  a 
Sunday,  the  Princess  must  wear  every  day ; 
and  that  is  why  it  is  so  difficult  and  often  so 
tiresome  to  be  a  real  princess. 

Fortunately    the    Simla    Princess   is    not 
expected  to  hold  her  commission  for  life. 
Her  Majesty    knew,    I    suppose,  from   her 
own    royal    experience,  how  it   got  on   the 
nerves,  and  realized  that  if  she  required  any- 
thing like  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get 
the  right  kind  of  people.     So  at  the  end  of 
every  four  or  five  years    the    Roy-Regent 
goes  home  to  his  ordinary  place  in"  the  Red 
Book  burdened  for  life  with  a  frontier  policy, 
but  never  again  compelled  to  drive  out  in 
the   evenings    attended    by   four   cantering 
Sikhs,  each  Sikh  much  larger  than  himself 
and  shaking  a   lance.     He  may  go  on   to 
greater  things,  or  he  may  simply  return  to 
the  family  estates ;  but  in  any  case  the  Prin- 
cess can  put  her  crown  away  in  a  drawer  and 
8 


The  Crow's-Nest 


114 

do  things,  if  she  likes,  in  the  kitchen,  which 
must  be  a  great  relief.  Of  course  she  can 
never  quite  forget  that  she  has  been  a  prm- 
cess,  in  commission,  once.  The  though 
must  have  an  ennobling  effect  ever  after,  and 
often  interpose,  as  it  were,  between  the  word 
and  the  blow  in  domestic  differences.  For 
this  reason  alone,  many  of  us  would  gladly 
undertake  to  find  the  necessary  fortitude  for 
thetask;butitis  not  a  thing  you  can  get 

by  merely  apply '.ng  for  it. 

To  the  state  of  the  Princess  belongs  that 
quaint    old-fashioned     demonstration,    the 
curtsey.      The    Princess    curtseys    to   the 
Queen-Empress -how    I    should    like   to 
^e    her   do   it '.-and   we    all   curtsey  to 
the    Princess.      This    alone    would    make 
Simla  a  school  for  manners,  now  that  you 
have  to  travel  so  far,  unless  you  are  by  way 
of  running  in  and  out  of  Windsor  Castle,  to 
find   the   charming   form   in   ordinary  use 
How  admirable  a  point  of  personal  contact 
lies   in   the   curtsey -what  deference  ren- 
dered,  what    dignity    due!      "You    are  a 
Princess,"    it   says,  "therefore   I   bend   my 


The  Crow's-Nest 


»i5 

knee.     I  am  a  Person,  therefore  I  straighten 
't  again,      and  many  things  more  graceful 
more  agreeable,  more  impertinent  than  that.' 
Indeed,  there  is  a  very  little  that  cannot  be 
sa,d  m  the  lines  and  the  sweep  of  a  curtsey. 
To  thmk  there  was  a  time  when  conversa- 
tion was  an  art, .  nd  curtseying  an  accomplish- 
ment   ,s  to  hate  our  day  of  monosyllables 
and  short  cuts,  of  sentiments  condensed,  and 
opinions  taken  for  granted.     One  wonders 
how  we  came  to  lose  the  curtsey,  and  how 
much  more  went  with  it,  how  we  could  ever 
let  It  go,  to  stand  instead  squarely  on  our 
two  feet  and  nod  our  uncompromising  heads 
and  say  what  we  have  to  say.     1  suppose  i^ 
.s  one  of  the  things  that  are  quite  gone;  we 
can  never  reaffect  it,  indeed  our  behaviour, 
considered  as  behaviour,  is  growing  steadily 
worse.      Already  you  may  be  asked,  by  a 
person  whom  you  have  never  seen  before 
whether  you  prefer    Ecclesiastics  or  Omar 
ithayyam,  or  how  you  would  define  the  ego 
or  what  you  think  of  Mr.  Le  Gallienne- 
■natters  which  require  confidence,  almost  a 
curtain.     We  have  lost  the  art  of  the  gradual 


-     .    _resently  we   shall   hustU    each 
approach  ,    presenuy  ^ 

other  like  kinetic  atoms      A  kinenc 
understand,  goes  straight  to  ^^e  PO'n^ 

We  all  love,  curtseying  to  the   fnncess 
theTe  ore,  partly  because  it  is  a  k«t  art  an 

Whether  it  is  the  long  boots  o 

skirt,  or  the  uncompromising  cut,      canno 

Ly/but  I  always  feel,  per^--g--> 

-thePHncessmmyl^^.;^-^^^^ 

false  position,    ^v^^™^^^^  her  heels 

stalk  about  in  her  hab  t  a  P    ^^^^  ^^ 

with  her  "'i-g/!°P'.t7ex  about  it  which 
the  privileges  of  the  other  sex  aoo 
falLing,'andwhich,asthec^mme      s    c 

tioned,  one  can  enjoy  ^'^.-^^'^'^l^J^.^^u 
not  arranged  for  curtseying,    nd  the  e  o 
to  be  a  dispensation  permitting  ladies  w 
ing  it  to  bow  from  the  waist 

Then  the  Princess  passes  on,  leaving  / 


The  Crow's-Nest       1 1 7 


smiling.  I  have  seen  people  continue  to 
smile  in  a  lower  key  for  twenty  minutes  after 
the  Princess  has  gone  by,  as  water  will  go 
on  reflecting  a  glow  long  after  the  sunlight 
has  left  it.  The  effect  is  quite  i.ivoluntary, 
and  of  course  it  looks  a  little  foolish,  but  it 
is  agreeable  to  feel,  and  nobody,  positively 
noboJy,  can  produce  it  but  the  Princess. 
Indeed  the  power  to  produce  it  would  be  a 
capital  test  for  princesses. 

If  I  were  in  any  way  in  a  position  to  sub- 
mit princesses  to  tests,  I  should  offer  that  of 
the  single  pea  and  the  twenty  feather  beds 
with  confidence  to  ours.  Which  is  a  pride 
and  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  say  in  these  days, 
when  ladies  thus  entitled  are  so  apt  to  dis- 
guise themselves  in  strong  minds  or  blunt 
noses  or  irritating  clothes.  It  is  delightful 
to  be  assured  that,  in  spite  of  this  tendency, 
the  Princess  has  not  yet  vanished,  the  Prin- 
cess of  the  fairy  tales,  the  real  Princess,  from 
among  us,  that  such  a  one  is  sitting  at  the 
moment  in  her  castle,  not  ten  minutes'  walk 
from  here,  eating  marmalade  with  a  golden 
spoon,  or  whatever  she  likes  better  than  mar- 


1 8       The  Crow's-Nest 


malade,  and  bringing  to  life  day  after  day 
that  delight  in  living  which  you  must  have, 
or  there 's  no  use  in  being  a  prin  ;ess.     It  is 
possible  that  she  may  not  put  on  her  diadem 
every  morning;    there   is  no  necessity  for 
that,  since  you  could  not  imagine  her  without 
it ;  and  if  she  prefers  reading  her  Browning 
to  watching  her  gold-fish,  it  is  not  in  any 
way  my  affair.     Indeed,  although  she  occu- 
pies a  public  position,  there  is  no  one  who 
more  readily  accedes  her  right  to  a  private 
life  than  I,  though,  of  course,  with  the  rest 
of  her  subjects,  I  would  prefer  that  she  had 
as  little  of  it  as  possible.     It  is  said  that  the 
Roy-Regent,  knowing  what  would  be  ex- 
pected of  her,  was  not  content  until  he  had 
found  the  most  beautiful  and  agreeable  Prin- 
cess there  was ;  and  I  can  well  believe  'hat 
he  sailed  over  seas  and   seas  to  find  her, 
though  it  is  probably  only  a  tradition  that 
they  met  at  George  Washington's  country 
seat  where  the  Princess  was  looking  for  trail- 
ing  arbutus,— another  lovely  thing  whose 
habitat  is  the  banks  of  the  Potomac.    And  an 
improbable  tradition,  as  George  Washington 
never  encouraged  princesses. 


The  Crow's-Nest       1 1  9 


Last  night  there  was  an  enteuainment  at 
the  castle  and  among  the  guests  a  chief  of 
one  of  those  smaller  Indias  that  cluster  about 
the  great  one.     He  wore  his  own  splendid 
trappings,  and   he  was  a  handsome   fellow, 
well  set  up ;  and  above  his  keen  dark  face, 
in  front  of  the  turban,  set  round  with  big 
irregular  pearls,  was  fastened  a  miniature  of 
the  Queen-Empress  who  holds  his  fealty  in 
her  hand.    To  him  the  Princess,  all  in  filmy 
lace  with  her  diadem  flashing,  spoke  kindly. 
They  sat  upon  gold-backed  chairs  a  little  way 
apart,  and  as  she  leaned  to  confer  her  smile 
and  he  to  receive  it,  I  longed  to  frame  the  pic- 
ture and  make  perpetual  the  dramatic  mo- 
ment, the  exquisite  odd  chance.     "  Surely," 
thought  I,  "  the  world  has  never  been  so  gra- 
ciously bridged  before."    Talking  of  George 
Washington,  if  the  good  man  could  have 
seen  that,  I  think  he  might  have  melted  to- 
ward princesses  ;    I  do  not  think,  from  all 
we  know  of  him,  that  he  would  have  had 
the  heart  to  turn  coldly  away  and  disclaim 
responsibility  for  this  one.     I  wish  he  could 
have  seen  it;    yes,  and  Martha  too,  though 


I  20 


The  Crow's-Nest 


if  anybody  thought  necessary  to  make  trouble 
and  talk  about  sacred  principles  of  democracy, 
it  would  have  been  Martha.  Martha,  she 
would  have  been  the  one.  Her  great  and 
susceptible  husband  would  have  taken  a 
philosophic  pinch  of  snufF  and  toasted 
posterity. 

I  see  that  I  have  already  admitted  it,  I 
have  slipped  in  the  path  of  virtuous  resolu- 
tion and   lofty   indifference;    I    have   gone 
back,  just  for  a  minute,  into  the  world.    The 
reason  I  have  neglected  every  flower  ir  .he 
garden  this  morning  to  write  about  the  Prin- 
cess is  that  1  have  been  dining  with  her.     It 
is  so  difficult  to  be  unmoved  and  firm  when 
you  know  the  band  will  play  and  there  will 
be  silver  soup-plates,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
Roy-Regent  smiling  and  pleased  to  see  you, 
and  the  Roman  punch  in  the  middle  of  the 
menu.    At  home,  one  so  seldom  has  Roman 
punch  in  the  middle  of  the  menu.     Besides, 
now  that  I  think  of  it,  it  was  a  "  command  " 
invitation,  and  I  did  not  go  for  any  of  these 
reasons,  or  even  to  se ;  the  Princess,  but  be- 
cause I  had  to ;  a  lofty  compulsion  of  State 


The  Crow's-Nest 


I  2  I 


was  upon  me,  and  nobody  would  place  her 
loyalty  in  question  on  account  of  a  possible 
draught.  If  there  had  been  a  draught  and 
I  had  taken  cold  I  should  have  felt  an  added 
nobility  to-day  ;  somewhat  the  virtue,  I  sup- 
pose, of  the  elderly  statesman  who  contracts 
a  fatal  influenza  at  a  distinguished  interment 
and  so  creates  a  vicious  circle  of  funerals ;' 
but  there  was  no  draught. 

The  Princess  lives  in  splendid  isolation 
If  It  were  not  for  the  Roy-Regent  and  the 
babies,   and    the   Commander-in-Chief  and 
hts  family,  she  would  die  of  loneliness.    And 
of  course  the  Bishop,  though  I  can't  under- 
stand in  what  way  one  would  depend  much 
upon   a  bishop,  except   to   ask   a    blessing 
when  he  came  to  dinner.     Kind  and  human 
as  the  Princess  is  she  lives  in  another  world 
with   an  A.D.C.  always  going  in  front    to' 
tell  people  to  get  up,  "Their  Excellencies 
are  coming."       You    cannot   ask  after  the 
Princess's  babies  as  you  would  ask  after  the 
babies    of    a    person     like    yourself;    you 
must   say,   "How   are    Your    Excellency's 
babies?  "  and  this  at  once  removes  them  far 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


122  ^ 

beyond  the    operation   of  your  affectionate 
criticism.     When  it   is   impossible  even  to 
take  babies  for  granted  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation  may  be  imagined.     The  situation 
is  Rlorious  but  troubling,   your  ideas  often 
will  not  flow  freely  in  it,  and  is  there  any- 
thing more  dreadful  at  a  supreme  moment 
than  to  have  your  ideas  stick?     You  find 
yourself  saying  the  same  thing  you  said  the 
last  time  you  had  the  honour,  which  is  the 
most  mortifying  thing  that  can   happen  in 
any  conversation. 

I  often  wonder  whether  the  Princess  docs 
not  look  at  our  little  mud  houses  and  wish 
sometimes  that  she  could   come   ir.     The 
thought  is  a  reckless  one  but  I  do  entertain 
it      If  you  take  a  kind  and  friendly  interest 
in  people  as  the  Princess  does  in  us  all.  you 
cannot  be  entirely   satisfied  merely  to   add 
them  up  as  population  and  set  them  a  good 
example.     Nor  can  it  be  very  interesting  to 
look    t  the  little  mud  houses  and  observe 
only  that  they  have  chimneys,  and  not  to 
know    how  the   mantelpieces   are   done   or 
whether  there  is  a  piano,  or  if  anybody  else  s 


The  Crow*s-Nest 


122 

sweet-peas  are  earlier  than  yours.     In  my 
dreams  I  sometimes  invite  the  Princess  to 
tea.     An  A.D.C.  always  comes  behind  her 
carrymg  the  diadem  on  a  red  silk  cushion, 
but   at   my  earnest  prayer    he   is  made   to 
stay   outside   on    the  verandah.     We    have 
the  best  china;  and  in  one  dream  the  Prin- 
cess   broke    a   cup   and  we  wept  together. 
On  another  occasion  she  gave  me  a  recipe 
for  pickled  blackberries  and  told  me  of  a 
way  -  I  always  forget  the  way —  of  getting 
rid  of  frowns.      There  is  generally  some- 
thing to  spoil  a  dream,  and  the  thing  that 
spoils  this  one  is  the  A.D.C.,  who  will  look 
m  at  the  window.     All  the  same  we  have  a 
lovely  time,   the  Princess   ignoring  all  her 
prerogatives,  unless  I  say  something  about 
the  state  of  the  country,  when  she  instantly 
royally,  changes  the  subject.  ... 


Chapter 


XI 


IF  you  choose  to  live  on  the  top  of  one 
of  the  Himalayas  there  are  some 
things  you  must  particularly  pay  tor. 
One  of  them  is  earth.  Your  moun- 
tain, if  it  is  to  be  depended  upon,  is  mostlv 
n,ade  of  rock  and  I  have  already  mentioned 

how  radically  it  slopes.  So  a  garden  .s  not 
at  all  a  thing  to  be  taken  for  granted.  Some 
times  you  have  a  garden  and  sometimes  only 
a  shaly  ledge,  or  you  may  have  a  garden  to- 
day which  to-morrow  has  shd  down  the  h^ 

and  superimposed  itself  upon  your   ne.gh- 
bour  below.     That  occurs  m  the  rams;  it 
is  called  a  "  slip."     It  has  never  been  our 
experience  because  the    shelf  .s  fa.ly  flat, 
but   it   has  happened  to  plenty  of  people 
I  suppose  such  a  garden  is  recoverable     t 
you  are  willing  to  take  the  trouble,  bvjt  .t 
could  never  be  quite  the  same  thmg.        n^ 
most  permanent  plot,  however,  requires  all 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


•25 


kinds  of  attention,  and  one  of  the  difficulties 
is  to  keep  it  up  to  its  own  level,  ^uccr 
sinkings  and  fallings  away  are  always  taking 
place  in  the  borders.  Atma  professes  to 
find  them  quite  reasonable;  he  says  the 
flowers  eat  the  earth  and  of  course  it  dis- 
appears. The  more  scientific  explan.ition 
appears  to  me  to  be  that  the  gnomes  of  the 
mountain  who  live  inside,  have  been  effect- 
ing repairs,  and  naturally  the  top  falls  in. 
It  may  be  said  that  gnomes  are  not  as  a  rule 
so  provident;  but  very  little  has  yet  been 
established  about  the  Himalayan  kii.d;  they 
might  be  anything;  they  probably  are. 

This  whole  morning  Atma  and  I  have 
been  patching  the  garden.  At  home  when 
you  buy  a  piece  of  land  you  expect  that 
enough  earth  will  go  with  it  for  ordinary 
purposes,  but  here  you  buy  the  land  first 
and  the  earth  afterwards,  as  you  want  it,  in 
basketfuls.  There  is  plenty  in  the  jungle, 
beautiful  leaf-mould,  but  it  is  against  the 
law  to  collect  it  there  for  various  reasons,  all 
of  them  excellent  and  tiresome ;  you  must 
buy  it  instead  from  the  Town  Council,  and 


126       The  Crow' s-Ncst 


I 


it  costs  fourpence  a  basket.  Tiglath-P.leser 
says  it  is  tlie  smallest  investment  in  land  he 
ever  heard  of,  but  it  takes  a  great  many 
baskets,  and  when  the  bill  comes  m  I  shall 
be  glad  to  know  if  he  is  still  of  that  opmion. 
Meanwhile  coolie  after  coolie  dumps  his 
load  and  I  have  heard  of  no  process  that 
more  literally  improves  the  property.  You 
will  imagine  whether,  when  anything  is 
pulled  up,  we  do  not  shake  the  roots. 

Kow  far  a  sharp  contrast  will  carry  the 
mind!     I  never  shake  a  root  in  these  our 
limited  conditions  without  thinking   of  the 
long  loamy  stretches  of  the  Canadian  woods 
where  there  was  leaf-mould   enough   for  a 
continent    of    gardens,   and   of    the    plank 
"sidewalk"    that    half-heartedly    wandered 
out  to  them  from  the  centre  of  what  was  a 
country  town  in  my  day,  adorned  perhaps 
at  some  remote  and  unfenced  corner  by  a 
small  grocery  shop  where  hickory  nuts  ma 
half-pint  measure  were  exposed  for  sale  in 
the  window.     I  am  no  longer  passionately 
addicted   to   hickory    nuts -you    got    t.e 
meat  out  with  infinite  difficulty  and  a  pin, 


The  Crow's-Nest 


_____J_17_ 

and  if  it  was  obstinate  yo,;  suckeil  i;  —  but 
nothing  else,  except  perhaps  :he  sniel,  in  the 
cars  of  the   train-boy's   oranges,    will    ever 
typify  to  me  so  completely  the  liberal  and 
stimulating  opportunities  of  a  new  country. 
The  town  when  I  was  there  last  had  grown 
into  a  prosperous  city,  and   there  were   no 
hickory  nuts  in  its  principal  stores,  but  at 
the  furthest  point  of  a  subu-ban   sidewalk 
I  found  the  little  grocery  still  tempting  the 
school  children  of  the  neighbourhood  with 
this  unsophisticated    product   and  the  half- 
pint  measure  in  the  window.     I  resisted  the 
temptation  to  buy  any,  but  I  stood  and  looked 
so  long  that  the  proprietress  came  curious  to 
the  door.     And   along   that  sidewalk    you 
might  have  taken  a  ton  of  leaf-mould  before 
anybody  made  it  his  business  to  stop  you. 

We  must  acknowledge  our  compensa- 
tions. Over  there  they  certainly  get  their 
leaf-mould  cheaper  than  fourpence  a  basket, 
but  they  have  nobody  to  make  things  grow 
in  it  under  a  dollar  a  day.  Here  Atma,  the 
invaluable  Atma,  labours  for  ten  rupees  a 
month  —  about    fourteen    shillings  —  and 


;;;;ri;i3  own  meal  cakes.     The  -an  who 
works  for  a  dollar  a  day  does  it  in  the  ear 
lest  hope,  if  we  are  to  believe  his  later  b.og- 
::;L?ofaplacelnward^^^^^^^^^^ 

tbns  He  is  so  lately  from  the  hands  of 
Tcreator  that  he  has  not  even  yet  J- 
ceived  the  idea  of  accumulation.  The  other 
dTl  told  him  that  he  might  take  a  quan- 

Z    of  seed   and  surplus   plants,   and     c 
hL,  and  he  would  not.     "^'^^^''^.l 
sell?"   he  said,   "I    ^   '  '  v^K '•    and  h 

f-;r::e^itrr::i^  rla 

ri^^U^name  and  told  him  that  he 

;rrs:r;rsS;ir^Br;^ 

;r:ira^r-clofhra::^i  two  or  three 
rupees  to  go  by  the  hand  of  an  old  man 
Xcomes'from  my  people.     It  IS  enough 

What  more?"  I  nientioned  the  future 
"Old?  "he  cried,  "God  knows  if  I  will  be 


The  Crow's-Nest 


129 


old.  At  this  time  I  am  a  work-doine 
wallah.  When  I  am  old  and  your  honours 
are  gone  to  Belaat,'  I  also  will  go,  and  live 
with  my  people." 

"  And  they  will,  without  doubt,  give  you 
food  and  clothes  >.  "  1  asked. 

"According  as  there  is,"  he  said,  "without 
doubt  they  will  give  it,"  and  went  on  with 
his  work. 

Here,  if  you  like,  was  a  person  of  short 
v.ews  and  unvexed  philosophy.  A  lecture 
upon  the  importance  of  copper  coins  trem- 
bled on  my  lips,  but  I  held  it  back.  A  base 
aim  IS  a  poor  exchange  for  a  lesson  in  con- 
tent, and  I  held  it  back,  wondering  whether 
my  servant  might  not  be  better  off  than  I 
m  all  that  he  could  do  without. 

Alas  for  the  poor  people  who  have  to  pay 
at  the  rate  of  a  dollar  a  day  and  mind  their 
own  business  into  the  bargain !  Never  can 
they  know  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of 
"te,  to  be  served  by  a  serving  people.  There 
«  a  spark  of  patriarchal  joy,  long  extinct 
west  of  Suez,  in  the  simple  old  interpretation 

'England. 
9 


■F  -^  7%-  JK.-  ^K^-^a^-jmrnm^. 


X30       The  Crow' s-Nest 

which  still  holds  he  e,  of  the  relation  of  mas- 
Teranl  servant,  scolding  and  pra.se.  favou: 

and  wrath  ;  a  lifelong  wage  and  occasionally 
a  Me  medicine  are  stiU  the  portion  of  the 

servant-folk,  accepted  as  a  matter  of  cours. 

and  "  Thou  wilt  not  hear  orders  ?     ever  a 
u      To  all  of  us  Outlanders 
ser bus  reproach.      1  o  an  oi  "= 

"the  Ea  t,  it  is  one  of  the  consolations  ot 
:;ilandt  some  of  us  a  keen  and  constant 

pi  asure  to  be  the  centre  and  source  of  pros- 
S  for  these  others,  a  simple,  graph.c. 
Tr  sir.g  opportunity  to  do  justice  and  lev. 
C  y  and  walk  humbly  with  their  God.  I, 
^^oU.Hl^e  them  for  themselves       who 

could  help  liking  Atma?- and  of  perso 
towhomtheydonotat^apF^;^^^^^^ 
^L^I^TbrwhJrmates  this  relation 
pSble  and  enjoyable,  the  difference^  an 
Ihat  we    are  accustomed  to    consider   the 
ruprir;ity,ofours.    At  home  all  generous 

Jnds  are  somewhat  tormented  by  ^  -ns 
of  the  unfairness  of  the  menial  brand     n 

in  the  attitude  of  the  menial  mmd  there 
nothing  to  modify  that  impression. 


The  Crow's-Nest 


131 


Servants  in  this  place  are  regarded  as 
luxuries,  and  taxed.  So  much  you  pay  per 
capita,  and  whether  the  capita  belongs  to  a 
body  entirely  in  your  employment,  or  to  one 


;'ou    in    common    with 


which    only    serves 

several  other  people,  it  doesn't  matter;  all 
Che  same  you    pay.     Delia  and  I   share  a 
dhurjee,  or  sewing  man,  for  example,  and  we 
are  both  chargeable  for  him.     This  I  never 
could  reconcile  with  my  sense  of  justice  and 
of  arithmetic,  —  that  the  poll-tax  of  a  whole 
man  should  be  paid  on  half  a  tailor;   but 
there  is    no   satisfaction   to  be  got  out  of 
Tiglath-Pileser.     Some   people   have    more 
respect  for  the  law  than  it  really  deserves. 
I  had  the  pleasure,  however,  of  bringing  him 
to  a  sense  of  his  responsibilities  when  the 
tax-paper  came  in,  from  which  he  learned 
that  no  less  than  fifteen   heads  of  families 
looked    to    him    to    be    their    providence. 
Under  the  weight  of  this  communication  he 
turned  quite  pale,  and  sat  down  hastily  upon 
the    nearest    self-sustaining     -bject,    which 
happened  to  be  the  fender     But  as  a  matter 
of  fact  he  liked  the  idea.     Every  Englishman 


A  fl,iQ  io  whv  a  certain  measure  of 

V^rieneral  experiments  in  governing  the 
Est'  Hclove's  the  service  of  an  idea,  and 
Sing  flatters  him  so  truly  ash.  concep- 
tion of  all  that  he  has  to  do.  _ 

The  ear  sharpens  if  its  owner  lives  m  the 
Jde        It  is  no  longer  muffled  by  the  four 

fait  of  a  house,  and  remote  sounds  v.sit  ,t, 
bringing  with  them  a  meaning  wh,ch  some- 
how they   never  have  indoors,   even  wh. 
thev  penetrate  there.     Up  here  they  pnnc- 
pa  ly  make  one  aware  of  the  silence,  wh>c 
til   a  valuable  function  of  sounds, 
r:^  like  to  write  a  chapter  about  te^^^^^^^^ 
of  Simla,  but  of  course  if  one  began  l^eth 

s:tK:^:^trSif:^::^-- 

an'otfer,  uncertain  that  isnotanmsj^.    And 
the  quenching  comment  m  the  silence 
^°tt"  tremendous,  invincible,  taken  up  and 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^33 

rewritten  in  the   lines  of  all  the   hills.     It 
stands  always  before  our  little  colony,  with  a 
solemn  finger  up,  so  that  a  cheer  from  the 
cricket  ground  is  a  pathetic  thing,  and  the 
sound  of  the  Roy-Regent's  carriage  wheels 
awakens  memories  of  Piccadilly.      We  are 
far  withdrawn  and   very    high   up,   fifty-six 
miles  down  to  the  level,  and  then  it  is  only 
empty  India  — and  the  stillness  lies  upon  us 
and  about  us  and  up  and  down   the  khuds, 
almost  palpable  and  so  morne,  but  with  the 
sweetest    melancholy.     Consider,     you    of 
London  and  New  York,  what  it  must  be  to 
live  on  one  mountain-side  and  hear  a  crow 
caw  across   the  valley,  on  the  other.     Of 
course  we  are  a  Secretariat  people  ;  we  have 
no  factory  whistles. 

This  afternoon,  however,  I  hear  an  unli- 
censed sound.  It  is  the  sound  of  an  infant 
giving  tongue,  and  it  comes  from  the  quar- 
ters. Now  there  ought  not  to  be  a  baby  in 
the  quarters ;  it  is  against  all  orders.  No 
form  of  domestic  menage  is  permitted  there ; 
the  pluce  is  supposed  to  be  a  monastery,  and 
the  servants  to  house  their  women-folk  else- 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^34       

where.     The  sound  is  as  persistent  as  it  is 
unwarrantable;  it  is  not  only  a  breach  of 

custom,   but   displeasing.     How   am    I   to 
reckon  with  it?     I  may  send  for  Dumboo 
and  complain.     In  that  case  the  no.se  w^ 
ceaseatonce;  they  will  give  opmm  to  the 
child,  which  will  injure  its  digestion,  and  in 
the  future,  as  a  grown-up  person,  it  will  enjoy 
life  less  because  I  could  not  put  up  with   ts 
crying  as  an  infant.     I  can  report  the  matter 
to  Tiglath-Pileser,  which  would  mean  an  end 
to  the  baby,  not  illegally,  by  banishment. 
But  is  it  so  easy  ?     One  approves,  of  course, 
of  all  measures  to  discourage  them  about  the 
premises,  but  when  in  spite  of  rules  and 
regulations  a  baby  has  found  its  way  in,  and 
is  already  lamenting  its  worldly  prospects  a 
the  top  of  its  voice,  in   honest   confid  nc 
that  at  least  the  roof  over  Its  head  wdlb 

permanent,  a  complication  arises.  I  cannot 
dislodge  such  a  one.     Better  deafness  and 

^°F^r twn  the  khud  side  an  Imperial 
bugle.  Abroad  the  spaces  the  mountains 
stand    in,   and    purple   valleys    deepemng. 


The  Crow's-Nest 


»35 


Among  the  deodars  a  whisper,  not  of  scan- 
dal, believe  me.  A  mere  announcement 
that  the  day  is  done.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  hill  a  pony  trotting,  farther  and  fainter 
receding,  but  at  the  farthest  and  faintest  it 
is  plain  that  he  goes  short  in  front.  From 
the  bazaar  a  temple  bell,  with  the  tongue  of 
an  alien  religion.  .  .  . 


^^.^ 


Chapter    XII 

TO-DAY  I  think  India,  down  be- 
low there  on  the  other  side  of 
the  hill,  must  be  at  its  hottest. 
A  white  dust  haze  hangs  over 
the  plains,  but  we  know  what  is  going  on 
under   it;    nearlv    all    of    us    have   gasped 
through  June  m-  re  than  once  in  those  re- 
gions.     It  is  the  time  when  you  take  med.ail 
advice  before  committing  yourself  to  a  rail- 
way iournev,  even  with  the  provision  of  a 
cracked-ice  pillow,  -the  favourite  time  to 
step  out  of  the  train  and  die  of  cholera  in  the 
waiting  room.     It   is  also  the,  very  special 
time  for  the    British   private  soldier  to  go 
out  in  anger  and  kick  with  his  foot  the  pun- 
kah-wallah who  has  fallen  asleep  with    the 
slack  rope  in  his  hand,  so  that  the  punkah- 
wallah,  in  whom  is  concealed  unknown  to 
the  private  soldier  ar  enlarged  spleen,  im- 
mediately dies.     There  is  then  trouble  and 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


^27 


high-talking,  because  of  the  people  who  con- 
sider that  the  death  of  a  punkah-wallah  de- 
mands the  life  of  a  private  soldier  who  only 
meant  to  admonish  him,  a  contention  which 
cannot  be  judged  without  a  knowledge  of 
the  relative  values  concerned,  and  an  experi- 
ence of  the  temperature  in  which  the  rash 
and  negligent  act  was  committed.  There  is 
reason  in  the  superstition  which  associates 
great  heat  with  the  devil.  Operating  alone, 
it  can  do  almost  as  much  as  he  can. 

The  dust  haze  from  the  plains  Iiangs  all 
about  us,  obscuring  even    the  near  ranges, 
impalpable  but   curiously  solid.      It    has  a 
flavour  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  taste  if 
ever  one  breathes  through  the  mouth,  and 
hour  by  hour  it  silently  gathers  upon  the 
furniture.     It  has  been  like  this  for  a  week, 
pressing  round  us  at  a  measured  distance,' 
which  just  enables  us  to  see  our  own  houses' 
and  gardens.     Within  that  space,  the  sun- 
light and  every  circumstance  as  usual.     It  is 
a  little  like  living  under  a  ground-glass  bell. 
Do  not  choose  the  present  time  of  year  to 
come   to  see    Simla.     You  would    have  to 


„,ake  a  house-to-house  visitation,  and  piece 

if  tocether  from  memory. 

Even  here,  in  the  garden,  much  too  ho 

the  eye  of  heaven  shines.  I  have  abandoned 
the  pencil-cedar,  and  taken  refuge  under  a 
reUis  covered  with  a  banksia  rose  wh.ch  .s 
Scke  Ind  I  have  added  to  my  defences  a 
nth  hat  and  an  umbrella.  Not.,  hstandmg 
[hese  p  ec-t.ons.  we  all  gasp  together  to-day 
nthe'garden;  and  I  am  inclined  to  agree 

with  the  ".ignonettc.  which  is  net  as  a  rule 

Ta^a  ive,  that  this  is  no  longer  the  summer 

exqu   ite  word-that  we  expect  m  S.mla, 

TutTe  odious-hot  weather"  w^Kh  come 

s::::n^L:J^.;  u^er  t^^ 

iigidLii  i  _^     When  it  beean  to 

thine  under  a  conifer.       When  u  u  j, 

i,  will  never  do  any.h.ne.     No*  J8 
do...ny.hinB»aer.co.fc^      At-^, 


The  Crow's-Ncst       139 


not  come  up,  if  your  honour  wishes  it?" 
Atma  always  takes  this  view ;  he  seems  to 
suppose   that  the  flowers,  like  himself,  are 
above  all   things  anxious  to  please,  and   if 
any  of  them  fail  in  their  duty,  he  implies, 
with    indignation,    that    he   will    know    the 
reason  why.      But  his   opinion   is  too  con- 
stant,  and    I    did  not    trust   it   about    the 
mignonette.     I  insisted,  instead,  that  every 
morning  the  fallen  cedar  spines  should   be 
picked  out  of  it,  and  the  earth  freshly  stirred 
about  the  roots ;  and  I  have  a  better  patch 
of  mignonette  under  my  conifer  than  can  be 
produced  anywhere  else  in  the  garden.     I 
am  sure  that  the  shade  of  a  conifer  is  no  less 
beneficial  thar  -iv  other  kind  of  shade,  ex- 
cept that  -er  enough   of  it ;  nor 
""  J   ai           I  ....     .y  that  there  is  any- 
thing poisonous  in  the  spines.     They  only 
pack  and   only    lie    very    closely    together, 
never  blown  about  like  leaves,  and  so  keep 
away  the  air  and  light,  and  if  you  happen  to 
have   the   use   of  twenty  or  thirty    brown 
fingers  to  pick  them  out,  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  cannot  produce  quantities  of  things 


The  Crow's-Nest 


beside  mignonette  under  a  conifer.  Do  any^ 
thing  ?  1  do  not  know  a  more  able-bodied 
or  hard-working  flower  on  the  shelf. 

A  thing  like  that  offers  one  for  some  time 
afterwards  a  valuable  handle  in  arguments. 

However  you  do  it,  there  is  no  more  deli- 
cious experience  in  life  than  to  put  some- 
thing beautiful  where  nothing  was  before,  1 
mean  in  any  suitable  empty  space.     I  have 
done  it;  I  have  had  the  consummation  ot 
this  pleasure  for  a  fortnight.     There  was  no 
goldenrod  in  Simla  till  I  went  to  America 
Ld  got  it.     I  make  the  lofty  statement  with 
confidence,  but  subject  to  correction.     Some 
one  may  have  thought  of  It  long  ago,  and 

may  be  able  to  confront  me  with  finer  plumes 
Than  mine.  If  this  should  be  so  I  shall 
accept  it  with  reluctance  and  mortification 
and  hereby  promise  to  go  and  admire  the 

other  persons,  which  is  the  most  anybody 
can  do ;  but  my  pride  does  not  expect  such 

*  It' is  the  Queen's  goldenrod,  not  the 
President's,  though  he  has  a  great  deal  ot 
it   and   makes,    I    think,  rather  more   ftiss 


The  Crow's-Nest 


141 


the 

of 

fuss 


about  it.     A  field  flower  of  generous  mind, 
it  ignores  the  political  line,  and  I   gathered 
the  seed  one  splendid  autumn  afternoon  in 
Canada ;  so  here  on  the  shelf  it  may  claim 
its   humble  part  in    the   Imperial  idea.     A 
friend  of  my  youth  lent  herself  to  the  pro- 
ject;   she  took   me  in   her   father's  buggy, 
and  as  we  went  along  the  country  roads  I 
saw  again  in  the  light  of  a  long  absence,  the 
quiet  of  the  fields  and  the   broad  pebbled 
stretches  of  the  river,  and  the  bronze  and 
purple  of  the  untrimmed  woods  that  had 
always    been    for   me   the    margin    of   the 
thought  of  home.     The  quiet  of  after-har- 
vest held  it  all,   nothing  was  about  but  a 
chipmunk  that  ran  along  the  top  of  a  fence; 
you  could  count  the  apples  in  the  orchards 
among  their  scanty  leaves ;   it  was  time  to 
talk  and   to  remember.     And   so,    not   by 
anything  unusual  that  we  did  or  said,  but 
by  the   rare   and   beautiful    correspondence 
that   is    sometimes    to   be  felt  between   the 
sentiment  of  the  hour  and  the  hour  itself, 
this  afternoon  took  its  place  in  the  dateless 
calendar  of  the  heart  which  is  so  much  more 


The  Crow's-Nest 


Valuable  a  reference  than  any  other.     What 

a  detht  it  is  when   old   forgotten   things 

onstL   themselves   again   and  the   years 

!:::r:r^;:rr^--- 

for  hidden  treasure  In  the  attic  ? 

We  found  masses  of  goldenrod,  all  dry 
a„rscattering,  principally  along  the  ra.Way 

embankment,  which   we   took   for  a   good 
omen  that  it  would  be  a  travelling  flower 
Td  in  the  fulness  of  time  it  was  given  to 
Atm     wS.   instructions.      His   excitement 
w  reven  greater  than  mine,  he  nursed  j 
Tend  rly,   but   it   needed   no   nursing 
came  up  in  thousands  delighted  with  itself 
^the^ew  climate   overrunning  1^^ 

^^jlrT^r^-uLta^.e 
paling  behind  the  coreopsis,  and  it  immedi- 
SwLthat  is  to  say  in  three  months  time 
!llrew  to  be  five  feet  high,  with  the- 

thicl  and  lovely  yellow  BP-P' ^^  f^^^'", 
been  waving  there  against  the  fir-trees  - 
I  said  before,  for  the  last  fortnight.  It  ha 
quite  lost  the  way  to  its  proper  season,  at 


The  Crow's-Nest 


M^ 

home  it  blossoms  in  September  and  this  is 
only  June,  — but   it  appears   to  be   rather 
the  better  than  the  worse  for  that,  though 
it  does  seem  to  look  about,  as  the  Princess 
said  when  I  sent  her  some,  for  the  red  sumach 
which  is  its  friend  and  companion  at  home. 
It   is   itself  like    a   little   fir-tree   with   flat 
spreading   branches   of  blossom,   especially 
when  it  stands  in  groups  as  they  do,  and 
the  sun  slants  upon  it  giving  the  sprays  an 
edge  of  brighter  gold  so  that  it  is  the  most 
luminous  thing   in    the   garden.     And   the 
warm  scent  of  it,  holding  something  so  far 
beyond  itself  and  India,  something  essential, 
impregnated  with  the  solace  that  one's  youth 
and  its  affections  are  not  lost,  but  only  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world ! 

Another  delightful  thing  about  the 
goldenrod  is  the  way  the  bees  and  butter- 
flies instantly  found  it  out.  The  sprays 
are  dotted  with  them  all  day  long,  swaying 
and  dipping  with  the  weight  of  the  little 
greedy  bodies  ;  their  hum  of  content  stands 
in  the  air  with  the  warm  and  comfortable 
scent.     «  This  is  good  fare  "  they  seem  to 


««_    ntt 


14-4 


The  Crow's-Nest 


say  "There  are  some  things  they  make 
better  in  America."  I  had  never  before 
done  anything  for  a  bee  or  a  butterfly,  it  is 
not  really  so  easy,  and  I  would  not  have 
believed  there  was  such  pleasure  in  it.  "  Le 
fleur  qui  vok"  —  \s  not  that  charming  of 
M.  Bourget? 

I  suppose  it  argues  a  very  empty  plane 
of  life,  but  these  little   creatures    have   an 
immense   pc-'er    of   entertaining   a    person 
who  spends   day    after  day  in    the   theatre 
of  their    activities.       I    am    reminded    that 
here  in  India  one  ought  to  have  marvellous 
tales  to  tell  of  them,  only  Simla  is  not  really 
India,  but  a  little  bit   of  England  with  an 
Adirondack  climate  and  the  "insect  belt" 
of  Central    Asia;    and    things    are    not   so 
wonderful  here  as  you  would  think  to  look 
at  us  on  the  map.     Scorpions  and  centipedes 
do  come  up  from  the  plains  and  live  in  the 
cracks  of  the  wall  whence  they  crawl  out  to 
be  despatched  when  the  first  fires  are  lighted, 
but  they  have  not  the  venom,  of  those  below. 
Scorpions  Atma  will   take  hold  of  by  the 
poison  bags  at  the  end  of  their   tails,  and 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^45 

hold  up  in  the  air  dangling  and  waving  their 
arms;  and  nobody  even  screams  at  a  centi- 
pede.    Millipedes   which  look    much  more 
ferocious  but  are  really  quite  harmless  often 
run    like   httle   express   trains   across   your 
bath-room  walls,  and  very  large,  black,  gar- 
den spiders   also  come   thee    to  enjoy  the 
damp.      They  enjoy  the   damp,  but  what 
they  really  like  is  to  get  into    the   muslin 
curtain   over  the  window  and  curl   up  and 

u'c  ,.   '  ^''  "'•""  ^  "^  o"^  °f  them  in 
the  folds  of  the  curtain  I  thought  it  would 
be  more   comfortable   in    the    garden    and 
approached  it  with  caution  and  a  towel    to 
put  It  out.     Then  I  perceived  from  its  be- 
haviour -it  did  not  try  to  run  away,  but  just 
drew    .s  legs  a  little  closer  under  it,  as  you 
or  I  would  do  if  we  absolutely  didn't  care 
what  happened  so  long  as  we  were  left  in 
peace-  that  it  had  come  there  on  purpose, 
being  aware  of  its  approaching  end.     I  de- 
cided that  the  last  moments  of  even  a  spider 
shoulu  be  respected,  but  every  day  I  shook 
he  curtam  and  he  drew    his  legs    together 
a  httle   more   feebly  than    the   day  before, 

10 


until  at  last  he  dropped  out,  the  shell  o 
a  spider,  comfortably  and  completely  dead. 
I  admir  d  his  expiring,  it  was  busmess-hke 
and  methodical,  the  thing  he  had  next  to  do, 
and  he  was  so  intent  upon  it,  not  many  way 
Jo  be  "sturbed  or  distracted,  askmg  no 
^uestiou  of  the  purposes  of  nature,  sjmply 
carrying  them  out.     One  m.ght  morahze 

Talking  of  spiders  1  have  just  seen  a  fly 
Jhone'  It  was,  of  course,  an  ichneumon 
fly  One  has  many  times  heard  of  his  hbt 
nf  Douncing  upon  his  racial  enemy,  punctur- 
ng'and  Paralyzing  him  and  finally  carry.ng 
h?m  off,  walling  him  up  and  laymg  an  egg 
frhim,  out  of  which  comes  a  young  .chneu- 

In  to  feed  upon  his  helpless  vitals ;  but 
Te  does  not  often  see  the  tragedy  in  the 

r  He  held  his  fat  prey  qmte  firmly  m 
S  merciless  jaws  and  he  went  wuh« 
the  villain !  The  victim  spider  and  the 
assassin  fly!  One  might  moralize  again. 
Tis  h  tter  than  ever,  and  the  sun hgh 
under  the  ground-glass  bell  has  a  fact,  J 

look    as  if  we  had  here  a  comedy  with  a 
seen;  o?  summer.     A  hawk-moth  darts  hke 


^i"  ww^'^.}w^awrm^'-w:mu 


The  Crow's-Nest 


'47 

a  hummingbird  in  and  out  of  the  honeyl 
suckle,  and  a  very  fine   rose-chafer  all    in 

green  and  gold  paces  across  this  paragraph. 
I  beheve  there  are  more  rose-chafer!  this 
year  than  there  ought  to  be,  and  Atma  has 

a  heavy  b,ll  against  then,  in  every  stage  of 
he,r  existence,  but  they  are  such  attractive 
epredators      When     I    fi„d    one   making 
h.mself  comfortable  in   the  heart  of  a    La 
Krance.  I  know  very  well  that  on  account 
of  the   white  grub   he    was   once   and   the 
many  white  grubs  he  will  be  again  I  ought 
okill   h,m  and  think  no   more  about  It  • 
but  one  hesitates  to  send  a  creature  out  of 
the  world   who   exercises   such   good    taste 
when  he  is  in  it.     I  know  it  is'quite  too 
foolish   to  write,  but  the  extent  of  my  ven- 
geance upon  such  a  one  is  only  to  put  him 
into  a  common  rose. 
The  birds  are  silent;  the  butterflies  bask 

on  the  gravel  l,ke  little  ships  with  big  sails. 
tven  the  lizards  have  sought  temporary 
tirement  between  the  flower-pots.  I  am 
the  only  person  who  is  denied  her  natural 
shelter    and    compelled    to    resort    to    an 


€r  *«»%•'  -1 


1^.8       The  Crow's-Nest 

umbrella.  Tiglath-Pileser  said  the  other 
day  that  he  thought  it  was  quite  time  I 
made  some  acknowledgment  of  the  good  . 
>vas  doing  me.  It  «  do..  ^  me  good  -  of 
course.  But  what  strikes  me  most  about 
it  is  the  wonderful  patience  and  fortitude 
people  can  display  in  having  good  done  to 
them. 


msww^^:Mk\ 


:  ^'r- 


Chapter    XIII 


I    HAVE  had  a  morning  of  domestic 
details  with  the  Average  Woman.     I 
don  t  quite  know  whether  one  ought 
to  write  about  such  things,  or  whether 
one  ought  to  draw  a  veil;  I  have  not  yet 
formed  a  precise  opinion  as  to  the  function 
of  the  commonplace  in  matter  intended  for 
publication      But  surely  no  one  should  scorn 
domestic   details,  which    make  our  univer- 
sa    background  and  mainstay  of  existence. 
Theones  and  abstractions  serve  to  adorn  it 
and  to  give  us  a  notion  of  ourselves:  but 
we  keep  them  mostly  for  lectures  and  ser- 
mons,   the   monthly   reviews,    the    original 
young  man  who  comes  to  tea.     All  would 
eglad  to  shine  at  odd  times,  but  the  most 
ummous  demonstration  may  very  probably 
be  based  upon  a  hatred  of  cold  potatoes  and 
'  preference   for   cotton    sheets.     And    of 
^urse  no  one  would  dare  to  scorn  the  aver- 
age woman  ;  she  is  the  backbone  of  society 


t^^^.T'^rm'^p 


The  Crow's-Nest 


t50 

Personally  I  admire  her  very  humbly,  and 
respect  her  very  truly.  For  many  of  us,  tu 
become  an  average  woman  is  an  ambition. 
1  think  I  will  go  on. 

Besides,  Thalia  interrupted  us,  and  1  halu 
will  always  lend  herself  to  a  chapter. 

The  Average  Woman  is  not  affectionate 
but  she  is  solicitous,  and  there  was  the  con- 
sideration of  my  original  situation  and  my 
tiresome  health.     Then  she  perceived  that 
I  had  a  garden  and  that  it  was  a  pretty  gar- 
den   I  said,  indifferently,  that  people  thought 
so  •  I  knew  it  was  a  subject  she  would  not 
pursue  unless  she  were  very  much  encour- 
aged, and  there  was  no  reason  at  al!  why  she 
should  pursue  it;  she  would  always  be  a 
visitor  in  such  a  place,  whereas  there  were 
many   matters  which   she  could   treat  with 
familiar  intelligence.     I  was  quite  right ;  she 
wandered  at  once  into  tins  of  white  enamel, 
where  it  seemed  she  had     'ready  spent  sev- 
eral industrious   hours.       We  sympathized 
deeply  over  the   extent  to  which  domestic 
India  was  necessarily  enamelled,  though  1 
saw  a  look  of  criticism  cross  her  face  when 


The  Crow's-Nest 


151 


I   announced  that  I  hoped   one  day  to  be 
rich  enough  not  to  possess  a  single  article 
painted   in    that  way  — not  a  chair,  not  a 
table.     I  think  she  considered  my  declara- 
tion too  impassioned,  but  she  did  not  dissent 
from  It.     That  is  a  circumstance  one  notes 
al)out  the  Average  Woman :  she  never  dis- 
sents   from   anything.     She    never   will    be 
drawn  into  an  argument.     One  could  make 
the  most  wild  and  whirling  statement  to  her, 
if  one  felt  inclined,  and  it  is  as  likely  as  not 
that  she   would  say  "Yes  indeed,"  or  «I 
think  so  too,"  and  after  a  little  pause  of 
politeness  go  on   to   talk  about  something 
else.     I  can't  imagine  why  one  never  does 
feel  inclined. 

We  continued  to  discuss  interior  decora- 
tion, and  I  learned  that  she  was  preparing  a 
hearth  seat  for  her  drawing-room,  one  of 
those  low  square  arrangements  projecting 
mto  the  room  before  the  fire,  upon  which 
two  ladies  may  sit  before  dinner  and  imag- 
ine they  look  picturesque,  while  the  rest  of 
the  assembled  guests,  from  whom  they  quite 
cut  off  the  cheerful   blaze,  wonder  whether 


tlIM^9^j^^. 


152        The  Crow's- Nest 

they  do.  The  Average  Woman  declared 
that  she  could  no  longer  live  without  one. 

"  As  time  goes  on  one  notices  that  fewer 
and  fewer  average  women  can,"  I  observed 
absently,  and  hastily  added,  "  I  mean,  you 
know,  that  of  course  very  portly  ladies  —  " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  she.     "No,  of  course 

not. 

"  So  long,"  I  went  on,  pursuing  the  same 
train  of  thought,  "as  one  can  sit  down  read- 
ily upon  a  hearth  seat,  and  especially  so  long 
as  one  can  clasp  one's  knees  upon  it,  oni; 
is  not  even  middle-aged.  To  clasp  one's 
knees  is  really  to  hug  one's  youth." 

"  I  had  such  a  pretty  one  in  Calcutta," 
said  the  Average  Woman.  "So  cosy  it 
looked.     Everybody  admired  it." 

"  But  in  Calcutta,"  I  exclaimed  with  as- 
tonishment, "  it  is  always  so  hot  — and  there 
are  no  fireplaces." 

"  Oh,  that  didn't  matter,"  replied  she  tri- 
umphantly, "I  draped  the  mantelpiece. 
It  looked  just  as  well."  And  yet  there  are 
people  who  say  that  the  Average  Woman 
has  no  imagination. 


"Talking  of  age,"  she  continued,  "how 

old  do  you  suppose  Mrs „?     c 

body  at  tiffin  yesterday  «,/,.  i„,.^  ,,^  .'^^, 
declared  that  she  could  not  be  a  day  undjr 
;-y-jeve.     I  should  not  give  trit 

"About  a  person's  r,ge,"  I   said,  "what 
can  another  person's  husband  know;- 

What  .>i««/^  you  say?  "she  insisted.      I 
m  sorry  to  have  to  underline  so  much    bu 

Xs    7t  s°^  -V^^^-^^^^ ---alicst 
'f"'^s.     It  IS  as  >f  she  wished  to  make  up  in 
-Phas.s  -  but  I  will  not  finish  that  good 
natured  sentence.  ^ 

^■Oh,"   said     I,    "you    cannot    measure 

asCuIT^'K^V"^''"-'     She  is  as  old 
»  yueen  Elizabeth  and  as  young  as  thedav 

^W   yesterday.     Parts  o^  her'date  from 
M    r    v"  r'  P"^''  ^^"^   'he  advent 
■hi  ^'■'^'"  -  "     ^'  'J^^  "-oment 

rhaha    rnved.     "  And  that  is  the  age  of  all 
tt'e  world,"  I  finished.  ^ 

"We  were  wondering,"  said  the  Average 
Woman,  "  how  old  Mrs.  ■ .^^^^^erage 


or   the  aura  ,     j^       ^any  years 

e,.„..  to  .noth.    °f^_^  'X,,.,„.i„po,^ 
scoring  It  down.    It  is  surely 
eral,  even  among  married  ladies, 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^ ^ 

really,  the  question  might  have  an  exhausted 
interest. 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  "  said  Thalia  "  I 
see  your  fuchsias,  like  me,  have  taken  ad- 
vantage of  a  fine  day  to  come  out.  What  a 
lot  you  've  got !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  without  enthusiasm,  "  thev 
were  here  when  we  came." 

^h"?''*'^°"''/°"  '•'^^  '^'"'^"  e>^'-'aimed 
the  Average  Woman,  «I  think  the  fuchsia 
such  a  graceful,  pretty  flower." 

"  It  is  graceful  and  it  is  pretty,"  I  assented. 
There  are  any  number  of  fuchsias,  as  Thalia 
sa.d,  standing  in  rows  along  the  paling  under 

hepotato-creeper;  the  last  occupant  must 
have  adored  them.     They  remain  precisely 

henshed.    Knowing  that  the  first  thing  I  do 

Where  it  has  room  to  move  its  feet  and  stir 

out  at  mght,  and  take  its  share  in  the  joys 
of  the  community,  Tiglath-Pileser  says  com- 
passionately of  the  fuchsia,  « It  is  permitted  to 

occupy  a  pot;  "but  I  notice  that  he  does  not 
select  It  for  his  button-hole  notwithstanding 


i 


Thalia  looked  at  me  suspiciously.       What 
,  ^.aaainst  it '"she  demanded,  and 

have  you  got  against  It.  «  Now  tell 

the  Average  Woman  chorussed.     Now 

"''l  fixed  a  fuchsia  sternly  with  my  eye. 
..ifsanaffected  thing,"  I  said.  "Always 
looking  down.  I  think  modesty  can  be  an 
overrated  virtue  in  a  flower.  It  is  also  like 
ri'let-dancer,  flaunting  short  petticoats 
v,hich  doesn't  go  with  modesty  at  all. 
:!;:  a  flower  to  L  sincere;  there,  no  h-n^ 
no  affection,  no  sentiment  abou.     fuchsia^ 

Thalia  listened  to  this  diatribe  with  her 
head  a  little  on  one  side. 

"You  are  full  of  prejudices,"   said  she, 
«  but  there  is  something  in  this  one.     No- 
body could  say '  My  We  is  like  a  fuchsia^ 
Vu  depends,"  I  said;  "there  are  ld« 

not  a  hundred  miles  from  here  who  thn^ 
Then  they  are  told  that  they  walk  like  th 
partridge'and    shine    like    the  _  moon.     I 
should  n't  care  about  it  myself. 

«  No  indeed,"  said  the  Average  Woman. 
"That 'bit  beyond   the   mignonette  seems 

rather  empty.     What  are  you  going  to  put 

in  there?" 


The  Crow's-Nest 


^57 


"  Oh,  nothing,"  I  said. 

"  I  don't  know,"  remarked  Thalia  com- 
batively, "  when  there  are  so  many  beautiful 
things  in  the  world,  why  you  should  dis- 
criminate in  favour  of  nothing." 

"Jr'uT^V"  '^''^  '^'  ^^^'•^8^  Woman. 
Well,  I  .eplied  defiantly,  «  that 's  my 
spare  bedroom.  You  Ve  got  to  have  some- 
where to  put  people.  I  don't  like  the 
feeling  that  every  border  is  fully  occupied 
and  not  a  square  inch  available  for  any  one 
coming  up  late  in  the  Si  ason." 

You  can  see  that  Thalia  considers  that 
while  we  are  respected  for  our  virtues  our 
weaknesses  enable  us  to  enjoy  ourselves. 
i>he  accepts  them  as  an  integral  and  inten- 
tional part  of  us  and  from  some  of  them  she 
even  extracts  a  contemplative  pleasure  The 
Average  Woman  looks  down  upon  such 
things  and  I  did  not  dare  to  encounter  her 
glance  of  reserved  misunderstanding. 

Thalia  smiled.     I   felt   warmed  and  ap- 
proved.    "Alas!"  said  she,  "my  garden  is 
all  spare  bedrooms."     She  lives,  poor  dear 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Jakko  and  has  to' 


The  Crow's-Nest 


K#L 


wait  till  September  for   her  summer.        I 
see  you  keep  it  aired  and  ready. 

As   a  matter  of  fact  Atma   had  freshly 
turned  the  earth.     I   hold  to    that   m  the 

rrorXirbTc^Sround;  and  .n 
em^ty  bed,  if  it  is  only  freshly  made,  offers 
the  mind  as  much  pleasure  as  a  gay  parterre 
It  is  the  sense,I  suppose,  of  effort  expended 

and  care  taken,  and  above  all  .t  .s  a  St  etch 

of  the  possible,  a  vista  beyond  the  realized 
present'which  is  as  valuable  in  a  garden  as 

it  is  in  life.     Oh  no,  not  as  valuable      In 

life  it  is  the  most  precious  thmg,  and  it  is 

sparingly  accorded.     Thalia  has  it   I  know, 

but  I   looked  at  the   Average  Woman  ,n 

doubt.     Thalia,  whatever  else  she  does,  will 

have  high  comedy  always  for  her  portion 

lli  who  can  tell  in  what   -n^  she  w  J 

play  or  at  what  premieres  she  wiU  assist. 

Bu    the  Average  Woman, -can  one   no 

!aess  at  the  end  of  ten  years  what  she  will 

Eulkn,  about,  what  she  will  have  expen^ 
enced,whatshewill  have  done?     I  looked 


The  Crow's-Nest 


159 


at  the  Average  Woman  and  wondered.  She 
was  explaining  to  Thalia  the  qualities  of 
milk  tea.  I  decided  that  she  was  probably 
happier  than  Thalia,  and  that  there  was  no 
need  whatever  to  be  sorry  for  her.  She 
stayed  a  long  time;  I  think  she  enjoyed 
herself;  and  when  she  went  away  of  course 
we  talked  about  her. 

We  spoke  in  a  vein  of  criticism,  and  I 
was  surprised  to  learn  that  the  thing  about 
the  Average  Woman  to  which  Thalia  took 
most  exception  was  her  husband.  I  had 
always  found  the  poor  patient  creatures  en- 
tirely supportable,  and  I  said  so.  « Oh, 
yes,"  replied  Thalia  impatiently,  "in  them- 
selves they  're  well  enough.  But  did  n't  you 
hear  her.?  'George  adores  you  in  "Lady 
nermidore."'     Now  that  annoys  me  " 

"Does  it.?"  said  I.  "Why  shouldn't 
Oeorge  adore  you  in  Lady  Thermidore  if 
he  wants  to,  especially  if  he  tells  his  wife?" 
"That 's  exactly  it,"  said  Thalia.  "  If  he 
really  did  he  wouldn't  tell  her.  But  he 
doesn't.  She  just  says  so  in  order  to  give 
herself  the  pleasure  of  imagining  that  I  am 


'nrak 


i  iC'^ir  W^m 


■"i"-*./V^r?jS 


-■They  are  always  ottenng.n.u  husbands 
i;irp    that"    continued    Itialia, 

tZL  .i»p«  ^'  ■'< '  ^f  "■•  • "" 

1 1        a«^  Kpisides  it's  a  mistake. 

•'°  Mn»'>"- """" '"  r  T ',■; 

,.ld  Thalia,  <»  "  "-'"'■  "  *•"  ''°  ' 

„!:.£«  ker  husband.     She  i,  genmli, 
Zgrf  »i.h   q-oting  him   ""'""f' J. 

long  periods.     Average  wives  of  officials 


The  Crow's-Nest      i6i 


way 
local 


much  more  distressingly  affected  in  this 
than   other  ladies   are;  it  is   quite 
peculiarity   of  bureaucratic    centres, 
cherish  the  delusion,  I  suppose,  that"in  some 
degree  they  advance  the  interests  of  these 
unfortunate  men  by  a  perpetual  public  atti- 
tude of  adoration,  but  I  cannot  believe  it  is 
altogether  the  case.     On  the  contrary,  I  am 
convmced  that  the  average  official  husband 
himself  would  find  too  much    zeal  in  the 
recounting  of  his  following  remarkable  traits 
His  obsrinate  and  absurd  devotion  to  duty. 
"  In  my  husband  the  Queen  has  a  good  bar- 
gain !  "     His  remarkable  youth  for  the  post 
he  holds,  —  I   remember  a  case  where  my 
budding  affection  for  the  wife  of  an  Assist- 
ant Secretary  was  entirely  checked  by  this 
circumstance.     The  compliments  paid  him 
by  his  official  superiors,  those  endless  com- 
pliments.   And  more  than  anything  perhaps, 
his  extraordinary  and  deplorable  indifference 
to  society.     "  I  simply  can«e/  get  my  hus- 
band  out;    I    am    positively   ashamed   of 
making  excuses  for  him."      When  her  hus- 
band is  served  up  to  me  in  this  guise  I  feel 


^v  indignation  rising  out  of  all  proporuon 
To  its  sleet,  always  an  annoying  expenence. 
my   shiuld   I  be  expected  to  accept  h. 

fooUsh  idea  that  he  is  superior  to  soaety 
]  Smire  it '      Why  should  I  be  assumed 
to  obseTe  wiih  interL  whether  he  comes 
1,  why  indeed,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 

n,is  the  woman  who  has  the  reucence  to 
"her  husband  make  his  own  -putat.on 
What  offends  one.  I  suppose,  is  the  lack 
What  o  different  case  is  that 

of  smcerity.     A  veiy 
of  the  simple  soul  who  ^^^'^°J!l  ^  ..j.„ 
allow  me  to  have  it  in    he  house     o     J 

^^-r ^    trw:;  1  .arrtlrill  of 
One   hears   that   witn  . 

what  excuse  has  she. 


Chapter    XIV 


THE  rains  have  come.     They  were 
due   on    the   fifteenth   of  June 
and   they   are  late;    this  is  the 
twentieth.    The  whole  of  yester- 
day afternoon  we  could  see  them  beating  up 
the  valleys,  and  punctually  at  midnight  thev 
amveafinng  their  own  salute  with  a  great 
clap  of  thunder  and  a  volley  on  the  roof- it 
J  a  galvanized  roof- that  left  no  room  for 
doubt.     You  will  notice  that  it  is  the  rains 
that  have  come  and  not  the  rain;  there  is 
more   difference   than    you   would   imagine 
between    water   and   water.     The  rain  is  a 
gentle  thmg  and  descends  in  England  •  the 
™s  are  untamed,  torrential,  and  visit  parts 

"\  ^^^--^°^tay;fort'hree 
good  months  they  are  with  us,  pelting  the 
g^den,  beating  at  the  panes.     It  wouU  be 

Z    '  ^°'  P"'°"^  "^'"g  i"  ^he  temperate 
one    to    conceive    how   wet,   during    this 
period,  our  circumstances  are. 


movement  of  nature,  p  ^^^^ 

certain   of  ^^f^^^th  agoom  which  is 
morning  ^t^^f ^  ';  '^^  varied  by 

not  assumed.     A  dnpp>  B 

ninety  days.     1  he  em  umbrella, 

„,hthelurtn     P  ^.^_|  ^^„,,j 

u         ,v  ;n  «  so.  of  n-oontainj  on  «  t"' 

hour.        it  siiiip  J  . 

remarked  Thisbe,  and  I  saw  that  h  y  ^^^ 
thinking  of  me,  under  the  com fe  ^^  ^^ 
you  suspect  comm.ser^  on  the  .f^J^^., 

ll^r-WhyluldLlearupM. 
^^!.SS^Pl-sitoutinther.. 


"1.     It  s  the  biggest. 

Theyglanced  at  each  other;  I  perceived 
he  glance  though  n,y  attention  was  sup- 
posed  to  be  given  to  a  curried  egg.    A  word 

opet,t,on  would  have  instaiJL  at  oe 

the draw,ng-roon,  fire;  but  a  commanding 

pnde  rose  up  ,n  me  and  forbade  the  word 

T.glath-P,leser.  who  holds   to  carrymg  out 

yste^    thoroughly,  asked    me   thoughr- 

^lyfl  would  n-t  have  a  little  marmafade 
mth  my  egg;  and  the  matter  dropped. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  I  was  encamped 
under  the  pencil  cedar  and  the  old  green 
umbrella.  You  cannot  screen  your  £  ^ 
pe.on  ,„,,„,, Hair  with  these  Lthtg 

d  I  added  to  myself  a  water-proof  sheft. 
omin  '/'^g""^'^^"^  '"°'"ent.  The  rain  was 
wmingdown  straight  and  thick  with  a  loud 


•^*#ir. 


i66       The  Crow's-Nest 


steady  drum,  small  flat  puddles  were  dancing 
all  about  me,  and  brooks  were  running  un- 
der my  chair  — 1  sat  calm  and  regardless.    1 
was  really  quite  dry  and  not  nearly  so  un- 
comfortable as  I  looked ;    but  I  presented  a 
spectacle  of  misery  that  afltbrded  me  a  subtle 
ioy     The  only  drawback  was  that  there  was 
nobody  to  witness  it;   Thi'be  and  T.glath- 
Pileser  seemed  by  common  consent  to  with- 
draw themselves  to  the  back  parts.     Only 
Dumboo  circulated  disconsolately  about  the 
verandah,  with  the   heavy  knowledge   that 
now  without  doubt  it  was  proved  that  the 
mistress   was    mad;    and    I    wished    to    be 
thought   indifferent  only,    not  msane.     He 
seemed  to  think  that  I  required  surveillance 
and  kept  an  anxious  eye  upon  me  until  1 
sent  him  about  his  business. 

It  was  a  day  of  great  affairs  in  the  garden; 
I  could  hear  them  going  on  all  round  me. 
To  everybody  there  it  meant  a  radical  change 
of  housekeeping;  some  families  were  commg 
out  and  some  going  in,  some  moving  up  and 
some  down,  while  others  would  depart,  al- 
most at  once,  for  the  season.     No  wonder 


!^waiSdii;^:^ 


they  all  talked 


The  Crow's-Ncst        167 


at 


once  in  an  excited  mur- 
mur under  the  rain.  I  could  hear  the 
murmur  but  I  could  not  distinguish  the 
voices;  between  the  rain  and  the  umbrella, 
most  of  the  garden  was  hidden  from  me,  and 

.t-sacunousfactthatifyoucannotseea 
Hower  you  cannot  hear  what  it  says.  Only 
the  pansy  beds  came  within  eyesight  and 
ear-shot,  and  there  I  could  see  that  conster- 
nation  and   confusion    reigned.     It   is    the 

hegmnmgoftheendforthepansies;  they 
love  ram  m  watering-pots,  morning  and 
evening,  and  a  bright  sun  all  day,  and 
this  downpour  disconcerts  them  altogether 
They  cry  out.  every  one  of  them,  agains; 
the  waste  and  improvidence  of  it      For  an 

other  month  they  will  go  on  opening  fresh 
buJs  and  uttenng  fresh  protests,  plainly  dis- 
puting among  themselves  whether,  under 
such  adverse  circumstances,  life  is  worth  liv- 
■ng;  and  one  sad  day  I  shall  find  that  they 
have  decided  it  is  not.  I  am  always  sorry 
to  see  the  last  pansy  leave  the  garden  ;  it 
goes  with  such  regret. 
I  intended  to  be  undisturbed  and  normal. 


IKL^ 


The  Crow's-Nest 


i68 

and  to  accomplish  pages;  but  I  find  that 
you  cannot  think  in  heavy  rain.  It  is  too 
fierce,  too  attacking.  You  know  that  it  w.ll 
not  do  you  any  harm,  but  your  nerves  are 
not  convinced;  you  can  only  wait  in  a  kind 

of  physical  suspense,  like  the  cows  m  the 
fields,  whose  single  idea  I  am  sure  .s,  How 
soon  will  it  be  over?" 

Well    I  knew  it  would  not  be  over  for 
ninety  days,  and  already  there  were  drops 
on  the  inside  of  the  green  umbrella.     I  was 
seriously  weighing  the  situation  when  Tig- 
lath-Pileser   appeared   upon    the   verandah. 
He  had  come  out  to  say  that  the  rams  al- 
ways broke  with  thunder-storms,  that  th,s 
wa   practically  a  thunder-storm,  and  tha  he 
considered  my  situation,  under  the  talle  t 
tree   in   the    neighbourhood,   too    exposed. 
He  had  to  think  of  something;  that  was 
what  he  thought  of,  and  I  was  pleased  to 
Ld   it   convincing.     "Shall    I    take  it  for 
granted,"  I  inquired  blandly,  "  whenever  .t 
Sefdown   in    bucketfuls    like   this,  t  at 
there  is  thunder  in  the  air  and  come. n 
and  Tiglath-Pileser  said  that  he  thought  it 
would  be  as  well. 


So  I  am  in-fn  to  spend  the  day      It 
does   not  sonnrl   ;«  y'     ^' 

which  shorfow'"eS;:Ltr;r"' 

measure  for  the  significance^fthrngs"  I    •: 
really   an    excursion   into    the   Wn  . 

careful  use  of  abstinence.     I  am  nT 

■ng  the  pleasures  of  the  anchoirerhLr:: 
und.scnmmating   experience    upon     uit^a 

ower  plane,  but,  oh.  restraint,  fhedidpLe 

only  makes  ItwrrhieTh'"^'^^^"" 
Jrough  the  world.  pJ^I.T^^rrZ 
t  "°""f'    ''^^^   never,   I    venture  to   sav 

nownthesenseofsheJterlfeelto-daVthe' 
ull  enclosure  of  the  four  walls,  the  ^^de 
Pendence  of  the  dry  floor      tL  uu 
-ho  watches  the  lon^  slant  of  Ih      "" 

;;eva"eyfromacavf:l7;hlt?he\rd 
;Th.bet  where,  little  heap  of  c^^ 

^«n  tell  of  such  a  one's  refuging,  may  offer 


The  Crow's-Nest 


„e  intelligent  sympathy -I  should  criticise 

^";;X::S:-I  have  been  criticijng^^;^ 
thines  The  house  is  a  place  of  shelter, 
^  ?a  so  a  place  of  confinement,  and  there 
ar    corners  where  the  blessed  au  does  not 

ufficiently  circulate.     This  as  an  abstracnon 

here  were  before.     1  have  been  d>scovenng 
tem"  various  places  this  mormng,  he 

a  suggestion  of  kerosene,  there  a  flavour  o 
,  ^      •     ,n«ther  spot  a  remmiscence  ot 
cheese,  m  ano  her  spot  ^^ 

Tiglath-Pileser's  pipe.  1  even  pre 
know  that  it  was  his  meerschaum  and  not 
tubrier  though  Thisbe  thinks  th,s  pre- 
posterous TWsbe  thinks  me  preposterous 
Cgether.  vainly  sniffing  for  the  od- 
whi?h  offend  me,  and  beggmg  me  to  de s.s 
tm   opening  windows   ana   lettmgn 

rain.      Dumboo,  more  practical,  goes 


ri  ^'1  -I  II  '-•iffiirniirririiiTMiifir'iiiif/wi 


a  n,ad  n^istress?  f  have  fit  M  T-  °^ 
-  near  as  possible  to  I  wTni'  "':' 
breakfast-roo..  with  \^;^SrZ  t 
rain  outs  de      Ic  \.„     l         &•""="    ana    the 

derstand  hatlan,  r  K  "  ^'""  "•-'  '"  """ 
and  \J      I  ''^^^  "  P^«^«  shortly 

and  1  may  choose  my  present      V^r 

'■-IhavebeenvainfyUTvlg^  r; 
ter;  the  world  seems  so   ^.J]    of  T-    n 

articles  that  one  does  not  vnt     btrh 
anmspiration  visits   me-/  J;,',   L 

*  '"P""'"    from    Jullunder  .ill    ^T'l 
m   a    wept         r   ii       i  "laKe  it 

"Portof  carpenters  to  the  hills. -land  ie 


The  Crow's-Nest 


will  be  a  most  delicious  present,  giving  a 
pleasure  every  morning  f-«hly  new,  much 
Ct  r  than  anything  that  would  have  to  be 
Scked  up  in  a  drawer.  Also,  when  we  go 
away  I  shall  be  able,  without  a  pang  of  self- 
IrJfice  to  leave  u  behind  for  the  enjoy- 
Tent  of  other  people,  which  is  qu.te  the 
^;„  pleasing  kind  of  benefit  to  confer. 

Very  hea^^ly  it  descends,  th.s  first  burst 
of  the  rains.  The  garden  is  bowed  under 
if  from  far  and  near  comes  the  sound  of 
'^'shing  water   down  the  khud-sides.-!  he 

"eat  valleys  beyond  the  paling  are  bnm  ul 
of  grev,  impenetrable  vapour,  as  >f  the  clouds, 
eve,^  in  dissolving,  were  too  heavy  to  carry 

,  ,  From    mv    asvlum     nothing 

themselves.       i-rom    my    «y 
appears  to  stir  or   speak   except   the     a 
-fhe   day    weeps   fast   and   stormily,   as   .t 
light  might  fall   before   she   had    half  de- 

^r wwfbe   dull    at   the    window   but 
for  the  discovery  I  have  made  in  the  banks,a 

over  the  arched  trellis  which  stands,  for  no 
purpose  at  all,  across  the  garden  walk  th 
S    round   the   roses.     Here    I    strongly 


The  Crow's-Nest 


in 

suspect  the  brown  bird  has  an  establ.sh- 
ment,  and  a  sitting  hen.  So  long  as  I  my- 
self sat  m  the  garden  I  never  guessed  it,  he 
was  too  clever;  but  he  did  not  dream  I 
uppose.  that  I  would  take  to  spying  upon 

J>.m  .n  bush  l.ke  th,s,  and  from  here'hi^ 
conduct  looks  most  Husbandly.  The  brown 
bird  jomed  us  one  afternoon  about  a  fort- 

Zt^T  "i;''  "'  ""^  ''^^^'"g  ^^^  -  the 
verandah.     He    perched    on    a   flower-pot 

and  hmted   in  the  most  engaging  way.  that' 
the  ground    was    baked    and   worms    were 
scarce  and  we  made  him  feel  so  welcome  to 
crumbs  that  he  has  constantly  dropped  in 
upon  us  smce      He  is    most  venturesome 
w.th  us;  he  W.11  run  under  our  chairs  and 
under  the  table,  and  he  loves  to  slip  in  and 
out  of  h.dmg  among  the  flower-pots.     He 
goes   with  little  leaps   and   bounds,  like  a 
squ.rrel ;  and  he  whistles  with  such  melody 
mat  one  might  very  well  think  him  a  thrush. 
I  thought  h,m  a  thrush,  until  one  afternoon 
i  glath-Pileser  said  aggressively,  "I  don't 
believe  that  bird  is  a  thrush." 
"  Pray,  then,"  said  I,  «  what  is  he  ?  " 


174       The  Crow's-Nest 


[ 


"  He  belongs,  nevertheless,"  said  Tiglath- 
Pileser  judicially,  "  to  the  Passeres." 

"  If  1  asked  your  name,"  said  Delia,  who 
was  there,  "  1  should  not  be  grateful  to  be 
told  that  you  were  one  of  the  primates,"  and 
we  laughed  at  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  he,  "  I  should  call  him 

a  robin." 

"  He 's  got  no  red  breast,"  I  brought 
forth,  out  of  the  depth  of  my  ignorance. 

"  He  has  a  reddish  spot  under  each  ear," 
said    Tiglath-Pileser,  "  and    mark    how   his 

tail  turns  up."  ^ 

"I  am  no  ornithologist,"   I  said.     '  His 

tail  turns  up." 

"  How  little  one  realizes,"  quoth  Thisbc, 
pensively,  "  that  a  bird  has  ears." 

"  I  think,"  said  Tiglath-Pileser,  "  that  1 
can  decide  this  matter,"  and  disappeared 
into    the  house. 

"He  has  gone  to  get  a  book,"  said 
Delia,  "that  will  settle  you,  dear  lady, 
you  and  your  thrush,"  and  presently  he 
came  out  triumphant,  as  she  said,  with 
"Wanderings  of  a  Naturalist  'n  India." 


-b.n.-"  he  read  afoud,<<.hte  ""'''" 
s.m>laHty  i„  eheir  habits  uZkl\fr 
the  door,  and  nick.:  „r,  ■  °"°''^ 

-'  as  i;  hops'  o„rT"'r""^'^^ 
associations  of  hn       u  "^   °^^^"    ^^^^ 

i. .  H.     .  !  "  '^'««-™t  banksia.     He 

■P'  by  exi«™„ce,h„„„ec„,„y, ■,',[„ 


J ^6      The  CrowVNcst^ 

encourage,  dull  little  wives  on  the  nest;  and 
neglectful    of   the    hard-beat,ng   storm,  he 

u      L  near  her  as  may  be  and   sends 
perches  as  near  ncr  «        , 
out  every  dulcet  variation  hr  can  think  ot 
To  the  prisoner  in   the  ^. use   "  seems  a 
Ipreme'note  of  hope,  t-s  bird  singing  ,n 

the  rain. 


I    FIND  it  desirable  to  sit    ^  .re  and 
--e    out    in    tl,e    rain.      A    ,i  tie 
stouter  protection,  a  little  „,ore  de- 
termination, and   the  cane-chair  will 
;oon   weather   anything.      There    are    sT 
tempestuous   half-hours  which  drive  „,e!i 
far  as  the  verandah   but  J  ,n, 
day  more  used  to 'the  s teadyir a^^ 

;  out  ..defences,  and   I  :ot^rr? 
'>^^y    he  term  of  resistance  of  everv  L 
-11a  m  the  house.     One  after  the  oth" 

put  them  to  the  proof;  on  a  real/ w 
day  I  discourage  three  or  four      An  n. 

.fecucle,  but  my  family  have  become  tc- 

12 


ing,  but  goes  as  fast  as  U  can  wU 

"^;^'''^^.rrv::^hte  'he'll  and  U 
ndes  past  U  .s  wU^  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

""'"Tf  most  of  the  mountains  when  I 
to  myself,  most  oi  ^^  ^^  ,^ 

^°f  ■    Wows  over  a  thousand  miles  of  sun 

"^      %  Ind  draws  a  balm  from  the  desert 

''"'  ""t  i  i  r  cool  dampness,  delicious 

'°  rle'ke  a  cooled  drink  to  the  lungs 
to  breathe,  like  a  c  ^^^_^^^^  ^, 

termmation  ot  a  snowv.  ,  J  ,  ^i 

and  the  sparser  drop,  d..^^^^^^^^^ 

,He  jolly  ^^^^fllXlZo^^^^^  skimmi, 
your  ^'"b^.^^'^''^'/' '  J,i„t  thin  veil  slant- 


*^v."i,'^" 


solves.     So  invariably  we  are  r..  f  ,  ' 

■n  the  house" until  it^ Jo  ";""''°""' 
A  pencil  cedar  f«  '    —'J^'feover. 

shining  through    f,    '  '      f  '°^'  ^^y  light 

politely  conceded     nH  ""''''^'"  ''^  '^'"■''''« 

^hehoLo:;t';hrd?n:r'^'''-'"- 

in  our  Dart  nf  fhl        ■ .  '^  gardens 

'herainTLsira^d  h^'^"'^'°^"'" 
Theresources  of/"  /  :  """^  ^"°"^^es. 
Wdly   ever   s:sp^f"'f^f-i-ir.  are 

people  say,  to  keep  tn  ""Po'^sible. 

comfortabi;  in  the  f  ?"""'  '"'^   ^f^^^  ''^' 

'^yitL-n,posiib,eotepi::;%t^^ 

'■■"le  town,  certainTv     i^  '""^  '"  °''' 

y- or  two  in  P  Si;     :^ 

■"-^-^^^-Hyr;:;:t:s 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No,  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


IS 

1^ 

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Li 
Hi 

Li. 

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1^ 

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Hi 

li. 

U£ 

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_     II 

ill  1.6 

^  APPLIED  IIVMGE     In 

SS'^  1653    tast    Mg.r    SIreel 

="jS  ?,°f^**'*'''  '^^^  ^o'*"    '*609   USA 

■-^  (^16)  482  -  OJOO  ~  Pnone 

^S  (^'E)  288  -  5989  -  F^x 


i8o       The  Crow' s-Mest 


be  thought  less  worth  than  others  of  their 
Iwes  I  never  can  quite  understand.  Espe- 
cially as  a  flower  takes  such  a  little  while  to 
come  to  you.     But  people  are  just  people 

To  me  of  course,  peculiarly  situated  under 
a  conifer,  a  rains  garden  was  a  peremptory 
necessity,  and  I  have  had  it  in  my  mind  s 
eve  for  months.     There  was  an  unavoidable 
fortnight,  when  the  earlier  flowers  were  going 
out  and  the  others  only  answering  my  invi- 
tation as  it  were,  promising  to  come,  which 
was   not   quite   cheerful.      The   sweet-peas 
fluttered  for  days  about  the  verandah  before 
they  would  submit  to  be  beaten  down,  and 
the  roses,  those  that  were  left,  looked  up  as 
if  they  had  been  for  a  long  time  in  ladies 
bonnets.     The  mignonette  grew  leggy  and 
curious,    spreading    in    all    directions    and 
forgetting    to   flower,   with   a  smell,  rnore- 
over,  like  decaying  cabbage,  deplorable  m 
mignonette;  and  the  petunias  went  off  with 
draggled  petticoats,  which  must  have  been 
distressing  to  a  flower  whose  principal  virtue 
is  her  neat  and  buxom  appearance.     U 
snapdragons   and  the  corn-bottles  are  just 


J^olding  on  anyhow  and    the  nM ' 

not  to  know  what  to  do     but^t'"  "^:'" 
"'ere  dashed  out  in  a  sin^ll       u        P°P"'" 

^■^■^''  of  things  in  pot  Ztu  "'^  ''  '"'^  'J"^"" 
removed  by  AtZ'     u      ''"  """iderately 

^o-tdisUrnT„tH::fP--^err 

.P-"d  of  „y  poLo-'vine  I  .H  "°'  '^  ^'^ 
>t.  but  somebody  probablv  I  ,  "°'  P'^"^ 
from  here  and  saw  th  ^  °  ^""^'"^  '^^^n 
hht  up  the  land  He  J"'  "'  '''  '""^'">' 
l-"   left  for  hiself  ""^  '^'"'''■^  ^^ 

So  eager  is  it  to  f  I  '"'^''"^  "'^'"o"^'- 
i'ot  wfathlr  Ih  ^""  ^^''^'^'^  '^^'  every 

-hTeitdt:;::hr^:f /-^.^  ^-'? 

,  ^"rhng  Japanese  kind   as  on  ,    ""^  '^'  ''^^ 
«n  be  to  th.    ■  '       °P"'ent  as  a  li]y 


i82       The  Crow's-Nest 


live  in  the  verandah  except  the  strenuous 
peppered  orange  kind  which  T'glath-Pileser 
declares  is  not  the  tiger-lily  and  which  bears 
itself  most  gallantly  under  the  ram,  standing 
like  a  street  lamp  in  the  darkest  corners, 
and  those  strange  crimson  and  yellow  T.gn- 
dx  (I  am  sorry  I  do  not  know  their  Chris- 
tian name)  that  roll  up  so  unexpected  y  with 
us  in  the  middle  of  the  morning.     I  must 
sav  1  like  a  flower  that  you  can  depend  up- 
on     Mr.  Johnson  speaks  contemptuousy 
of 'the  Tigrids,  so  I  suppose  they  are  com- 
mon enough,  but  to  me  they  were  newjmd 
very  remarWble.  and  when  they  began  to 
com'e  out      asked  Thalia  to   lunch   to  see 
them.     When  she  arrived,  at  two  o  clock, 
every  one  of  them  had  gone  into  the  likeness 

of  a  duck's  head,  with  a  satirical  red  and 
yellow  eye  that  almost  winked  at  us  I  was 
prepared  to  ask  Thalia  to  admire  the  Tigr. 
die,  but  such  conduct  puts  one  off.  1  am 
still  willing  to  concede  that  it  is  wonderful , 
but  you  do  not  want  a  flower  to  astonis 
you;  its  functions  are  quite  different, 
have  taken  occasion   to  point  out  this  to 


The  Crow  ,s-Nest       183 

^sbe.  when  she  complah,:  that  she  is^:; 

Tall  stocks  of  tuberose-quite  three  feet 
-stand  an,o„g  the  rose  bushes  in  front  of 

the  drawmg-room  windows ;  but  they  turn 
brown  a  most  as  fast  as  they  open[  next 
year  I  w.  1  plant  them  under  the  eaves  for 
more  shelter.  A  clump  of  cannas.  spikes 
offlame,wav,ng  splendid  Italian  and  African 

coleas  of  all  colours  s.tting  round  their  feet 
ord  u  at  chosen  corners  on  each  side  of   he 
dnve.     Even  on  a  shelf  you  may  have  feat 
ures;  ,t  .sail  a  matter  of  relatiol     If  your 
-le  .s  only  simple  enough  the  most  C- 

pns.ngmc.dentis  possible;  and  of  this  the 
-oral  certamly  lies  in  the  application  oft 
Masses  of  pmk  and  white  hydrangeas  on  this 

pnnt;heyare  so  big  and  blotchy  and 
yet  so  simply,  elegantly  effective.  They  are 
.stnbuted  wherever 
^hef  cape;  hke  Diogenes  the  hydrangea 
must  have  Us  tub.  Put  him  in  the  grou'nd 
and  at  once  he  grows  woody  and  branchy 


^*JK 


1 84      The  Crow's-Ncst 


and  leafy,  imagining  perhaps  that  he  is  in- 
tended to  become  a  shrub.     1  hus  he  can  be 
seen  to  profit  by  his  limitations -of  how 
many  mote  of  us  may  this  be  said !     The 
lobelia -a  garden  should  always   be   pro- 
vided with  plenty  of  lobelia,  to  give  it  hope 
—  is  flushing  into  the  thick  young  leaf  with 
a  twinkle  here  and  there  to  show  what  it 
could  do  if  the  rain  would  stop  for  just  ten 
minutes;  and  the  salvia  is  presently  blue, 
though   sparingly,   as   is   its    nature.      The 
fuchsias  care  nothing  for  the  rain  and  are 
full  of  flounces  purple  and  pink;  but  no- 
body takes  it  quite  like  the  begonias  who  sit 
up  unblinking  crimson  and  bnck-dust  and 
mother-of-pearl,  with  their  gay  yellow  hear  s 
in  their  splendid  broad  petals,  saying  plainly 
"We  like  this."     And  dahlias  everywhere, 
single  and  double,  opening  a  cheerful  eye 
upon  a  very  wet  world.     The  dahlia  took 
possession  of  Simla -I  have  looked  it  up 
Hthe  same  year  the  Gove.nment  of  Indu 
did.  and  it  has  made  itself  equally  at  home 
It  grows  profusely  not  only  in  our  bits  ot 
garden  but  everywhere  along  the  khud-s.des 


"»»»;  ..  nod,  under  ,h.  TeLS  offi 

govern   it-    II'         °"'  "'^'"P's  to 
freedom.  ^^"'^"^  ^"d  of 

Sunflowers  and  nasturtiums  take  as  kindiv 
to  bureaucratic  conditions.  We  LT'^^ 
them  fellows  of  fh»  v.  consider 

-nfloJer  has  no7  J^"^   ^°"^''^^-^'    "^^ 
eye  and  V       u  "'"''"'  *°  ^P^^^^  of;  an 

je.and  you  have  mentioned  them  all   ve^ 

-y  co^ed^ns  might  envy  that  rrn^^^-^^^ 

«'s  personality  ,s  evasive;  I  have  idly  tried 


to  draw  him,  and  have  reproduced  a  sun- 
flower but  no  gentleman.     It  hes  ma  nuance 
o    light  across  that  expressive  round,  wh.d 
niay  say  anything,  or   merely  stare.     On. 
TooL  intelligently  to  the  west,  another  hop 
fully  to  the  e-xst.     Two  little  one    cower  to 
lether ;  another  glances  confidently  up  at  us 
faUmother,  another  folds  its  leaves  under 
t   i  and  considers  the  whole  question  ot 
e  with  philosophy.     On  a  particularly  wet 
day  I  find  a  note  to  the  effect  that  a  smal 
sunflower  called  across  to  me.  "I  am  ju. 

outthismorningand.fspourmg.     A^- 
look-out.  but  I'll  try  to  bear  up.       Tha 
las  the  day   on  wSich   I   distmctly   saw  a 
sunflower  shut  its  eye. 

With  Tiglath-Pileser   everything  is  sec 

onTa  y  at  present  to  the  state  of  the  drains 

ZTIL  kitchen  roof.     The  drains  are  open 

hannels  down   the  khud-side    the  k.  ch 

roofisoftin,  and  when  it  leaks  enough  to 

put  the  fire  out  the  cook  -mes  and  com- 
Lins.  He  is  a  Moog  cook,  which  mean 
Ce  prefers  to  avoid  the  disagreeable,, 
he  waits  until  it  is  actually  out  before  he 


says  anyth.ng.     When,  between  showers,  we 

walk    abroad   upon  the  shelf  my  foots  ep 

naturally  tend  to  the  border  where  the  wTd 

puce-coloured  Michaelmas  daisies  are  thiclc- 

emng  among  the  goldenrod,  and  his  would 

ake  the  stra.ghtest  direction  to  the  plumber 

d  the  coohes  who  are  making  another  stone 

ditch  for  h,m.     To  me  there  is  no  joy  in  re- 

Pa.nng  a  kitchen  roof,  nor  can  I  ever  decide 

whether  ,t  should  be  tarred  or  painted,  while 
toT-glath-PilesertheunionofMichlelmas 
daisies  and  goldenrod.  though  pleasing,  is 

a  n-..tter  of  trivial  importance  So  we  hive 
agreed  upon  the  principle  of  a  fair  partiiion 

omterest.  He  comes  and  assumes  mode- 
rate enthusiasm   before  my  hedge  of  purple 

and  yellow;  I  go  and  pronounce  finally  th 
nothmg  could  be  uglier  than  either  paLo 
tar  for   the  k.tchen    roof.     By  such   small 
co.prom.ses    .s    these    pe.p.'e    may  ToW 
«ch^  other   ,n    the    highest    estimation    for 

mmds   me  of  poor  Delia,  from  whom   I 
had  a  letter  th,s  morning.     She  has  rejoined 


1 88      The  Crow's-Ncst 


her   husband    in  a  frontier   outpost,  where 
the    Department   of    Military    Works    '.id 
somewhat  neglected  their  quarters.     '    .elr 
position  — that  of  Captain  and  Mrs.  Delia 
—in  this  weather  is  trying  to  a  degree.     In 
a  particularly  heavy  storm  recently  the  rain 
tame  in  upon  them  in  such  floods  that  they 
were  obliged  to  take  refuge  under  the  table. 
Imagine  the  knock  of  a  stranger  at  the  gate 
under   such   circumstances!     It  was  better 
than   that  — it   was   the  knock   of  a  way- 
faring Sapp*      ome  to  inspect  the  bungalo'J}. 
How  great  must  Delia's  joy  have  been  in 
making  him  comfortable  under  the  table! 
And   there   they   sat,  all    three,  for  fifteen 
mi  "^1  hours,  subsisting,  for  the  cook-house 
was    carried   away,   upon    ginger-nuts    and 
chocolates  and  a  bottle  of  anchovies.     The 
more  remote  service  of  Her    Majesty  our 
Queen-Empress  involves  some  curious  situ- 
ations.     The    Sapper,   Delia    writes,   went 
forth    no   longer  a  stranger;   fifteen    hours 
spent  together  under  a  table  would  naturally 
make  a  bond  for  life.     One  might  also  trust 
Delia,  whose  mission  is  everywhere  to  stnke 


a^noteofga.ety  and  .nake  glad  the  heart  of 
'nan,  to  g,ve  the  circumstance  a  character 
sufficiently    memorab!         Almost    if  T 

wouldnothavebeenacrowclTcou  ht: 
wshed  myself  there  too.  unde;  the  table 


Chapter    XVI 


1HAVE  heard  crying  in  the  nursery ; 
it  is  the  most  babyish  and  plaintive 
repetition  of  the  old  birds'  note,  but 
it  p  3WS  daily  stronger,  more  impor- 
tunate.       He  parent  birds   utter  six    notes 
dwelling   on   the    fourth    in    long    musical 
appeal,  the   babies  have   learned   only    the 
fourth,  the  one  that     .'My  tells  when  you 
are  hungry;  it  is  a  l-.-e  pipe,  ridiculous  to 
tears      The  pretty  little  warbler  pursues  his 
gambols  more  energetically  than  ever  before 
the  door  of  our  Eastern  bungalow  now,  his 
wife  comes  with    him  and  they   are   more 
punctual  than  we  are  at  meals,  always  in  the 
verandah,  on  the  impatient  hop,  for  break- 
fast and  lunch  and  tea,  though  dinner-time 
finds  them  relucantly  in  bed.     I  will  go  so 
far  as  to  say  that  if  I  am  late  in  the  morning 
the  father  bird  comes  to  my  wmdow  an. 
asks  whether  I  am  aware  that  I  am  keeping 


■M'^. 


two  families  waiting  _  if  th-.f  ;^         "     .    - 
why  docs   h,.   =  ,  '*  "°^  *"«  idea 

conversations  throuirh  fh  7    ^      '  '°"S 

couple  and  so  absorbed    n  their   H  '""^ 
affairs  that  we  take  .  „  domestic 

't  is  a  delight  tfi  !'"'''"""  ^'''='»- 

-dplansa^n    h     „t:r'r''f'^°''^^^ 
other  times  how  priv   eeh,    °^^  ^'"^^    ^' 

-  -o.  that  s;-:i:;:i::r^-- 

-s.  The  :row'"h  TsTe!,":-  T  ■''. 
"terior,  but  inside  he  is  as  bt  H  "''''' 
villain  as  wears  feathe  s  He  tT"^  ' 
«ter  of  other  people's 'ff-"  "  '''"''  =""^ 

'^— nhes;^rtrLf^'^'■" 
"ot  good  enough  for  him    1'  ^"' ."^^^  ^^« 

^^chingtimeislelwTn'dtrT""'' 
"P^n  it  with  his  great  shro  L         """'^ 

»""  devouring,     f  he    otJl^.  -T'  ""'^'"^ 
S       ^ne    other  day  a  young 


192       The  Crow's-Nest 


bird  took  refuge  from  a  crow  in  my  bath- 
room.    It  was  huddled  up  in  a  corner  and  I 
thought  it  a  rat,  but  closer  approach  revealed 
it  a  baby  mir.a,  and  through  the  open  door  1 
saw  the  enemy's  impudent  black  head  peering 
in.    He  sailed  away  with  imprecations  on  his 
beak  and  the  mina  was  restored  to  its  family ; 
Atma   fortunately    knew  where  they  lived. 
Two  crows  have  marked  our  robins  for  their 
next  dinner,  and  I  am  much  interrupted  by 
the    necessity   for    disappointing    them.     1 
must  say  one  is  not  disposed  by  such  a  cir- 
cumstance  as  a  nest  to  an    over-confident 
belief  in  those  disguising  arrangements  of 
nature  that  are  so  much  vaunted  in  books 
of  popular  science.     What  could  betray  a 
nestful  to  the  marauder  more  quickly  than 
this  perpetual  treble  chorus?     Nothing,  1 
am  sure,  unless  the  valiant  declamation  of  its 
papa,  who  sometimes  takes  an  exposed  perch 
and  tells  the  world  exactly  what  he  would  do 
to  a  crow,  if  he  could  only  catch  him.    Why 
are  not  young  birds  taught  the  wisdom  of 
silence  and  old  ones  the  folly  of  vaunting! 
Because  birds  and  lizards  and  insects  and 


things  are  not  taught  half  o^         I!  " 

imagine,  and  as  toT  '""'''  ^'  ^« 

In  this  tS:;;'^,^^^^^^^^^ 

of  popular  scien?ethiIr„Vt  if  ThTb"" 

went  in  to  tea  '^f^i     l        •   ^^  ^nere,  and  I 

'"  ^°  tea  ately  bursting  with  thp  mf 
•nation  that  the  tits  had  come   ^  Th    T       ': 

sofa-cushion  Pe'-^ectJy    undeserved 

'3 


The  Crow's-Nest 


built  in  a  disused  chimney  and  squeal  defi- 
ance at  the  crows  all  day  long  from  the 
eavestrough.-no  crow  was  ever  yet  bold 
enough  to  go  down  a  chimney  after  his  prey. 
The  rest  come  and  go.  I  never  know  what 
they  are  at,  or  even,  to  tell  the  truth,  how  to 

address  them.     They  appear  suddenly  out 

of  nowhere  and  fly  in  companies  from  tree 

to  tree,  or  settle  down  to  an  industrious  meal 

all  together  under  the  rose-bushes,  as  if  by 

common  consent  they  had  decided  to  picmc 

there ;  perhaps  I  shall  not  see  them  again  for 

two  or  three  days.     Among  the  branches 

they  take  one  direction,  the  tiny  tree-chmbers 

with   yellow-green   breasts    are   like  young 

leaves  flying-     They  add  to  life  a  charming 

note  of  the  unexpected,  these  sudden  flights 

of  little  birds ;  I  wish  I  knew  them  to  speak 

*°  U  must  be  explained  that  this  is  the  fol- 
lowing day,  and  that  an  event  of  a  very 
disturbing  kind  has  taken  place  in  the  mean 
time.  The  rain  was  coming  down  in  sheet 
this  morning  as  Tiglath-Pileser  and  I  stoo 
by  the  window  after  breakfast.     From  the 


stop  when  the  n!H  K   .     '"  '"''""'  "  ^°"'d 

accents  so  youth  ul  lou  ,  t""''"''''"^  '" 
go  on  untJ  it  s  emed  1  ^^'"  '^""'  ^"'^ 
to  be  borne      H       7  '°  "'  '°°  g">^ous 

f  wned  out."  said  Tig  tp':r  Th' 
close-cut  roof  of  the  banksia  seeted  ,  ^^' 
P- protection  to  persons  sS;^:„72 

thought  an  un^h  "^"^  ^iglath-Pileser 

to  fif*^"/'"'"-^J'a  would  be  too  difficult 

'"g-stick  and  infinite  minr   7  '^^"'■ 

''e  spread   over   ti.    f    J  '"''  P^^^^^^'O"^ 
^cendL  uDon  hi    .    ^'"'^^'«' '^e   rain   de- 

i^hingffom  the  '^'^^^'^^^^'^  ^^^'1.  I  admon- 
.       5  rrom  the  window.     The  rrvi'n^  j 

■""antly.  and  though  we  waL7  J^  "''''^ 

•ninutes  it  HJri  „  .  ^"^   ^°''  some 

tes  It  did  not  recommence.     Evidently 


19 


6       The  Crow's-Nest 


the  little  things  were  more  comfortable, 
perhaps  they  had  gone  to  sleep.  "  That," 
said  I  to  Tiglath-Pileser  as  he  turned  away, 
"  was  a  real  kindness." 

Half  an  hour  later  I  was  still  at  the  win- 
dow.    No  sound  from  the  nest.     At  a  little 
distance   the    mother    bird    hopped    about 
anxiously,  something  evidently  on  her  mind. 
I  watched  her  for  a  long  time  and  she  did 
not  go  up  to  the  nest.     "  The  old  birds," 
thought  I,  "  are  afraid  of  the  mackintosh. 
It  is  better  to  drown  than  to  starve,'-'  and 
I  picked  my  way  out  among  the  puddles 
with  a  chair  in  one  hand  and  an  umbrella 
in  the  other  and  managed  to  get  the  thing 
ofF.     And  there  at  the  foot  of  the  trellis  sat 
a  little  helpless  bunch  of  feathers  with  round 
bright  eyes  and  a  heart  btating  inside,  — a 
baby  robin  tumbled  out. 

I  picked  the  adventurer  up  and  to.  .  him 
into  the  house.  He  regarded  me  without 
distrust,  comfortable  in  the  warmth  of  my 
hand,  but  when  I  put  him  down  he  sent  out 
no  uncertain  sound  to  say  that  he  was  un- 
friended.    I  have  often  tried  to  feed  fledge- 


There  he  sat  ud  wJch  t,-  l  .  ^"'  '^^  'f- 
andjookingatmrlh  t'''°^''^^-''J 
'^dly  openfd  wTde  hfs  °:  '""'"""P- 
yellowbeak.  It  wis  a  .-^  ^^°"''°"^  ^"^''« 
denly  spoken  -  befo 'e  ll  ^"°"'  ^'^  ^"'^- 
^  was  helpless  fullTf  ^'^'"^  '^^'"^"d 

pathetic  iSlediS"  I  XTn^r"-     "  ^°'- 

;■•-  bread  ani  water  arrived  Th  l^  ''' 
hermetically  sealed,  as  usual  J  ""l  ^'^ 
'v.th  confidence,  however  1"  '''  '^''^" 
and  presently  the  smaH  hV  '^'"'^• 

-g  all  sorts  of  th  „;T  1   '7"  "'°^^-'  -X" 
s'ippine  in  «n^    ^  undertone,  came 

J^'ow^rdSrchSfe  rose-stems 
derer  drop  over  the  ,i^I      J       '^"^  '''"  ^^"- 

'  matched,  uneasily,  the  ne  t^  m       '^''" 
I  "o  parent  birds,  and  as  tfm.      ^°  ^°""'^. 


ig8       The  Crow's  Nest 


them,  that  the  friendly  mackintosh  had  come 
too  late ;  and  in  some  depression  I  went  out 
to  see.  By  standing  on  a  chair  I  could  just 
reach,  and  thrusting  my  hand  through  the 
wet  leaves  I  felt  for  the  little  corpses.  The 
nest  was  empty  !  ,    ,, 

It  is  a  novel  and  rather  a  laughable  sen- 
sation to  be  taken  in  —  completely  sold  — 
by  a  bird.      How  she  managed  it  I  cannot 
imagine,  for  it  all  happened  under  my  eyes 
and  I  saw  nothing,  but  one  by  one  she  must 
have   enticed  her  family  out   into   a   most 
unattractive  world   some  days  before  then- 
time,  alarmed  at  the  shrouding  mackmtosh. 
The  last  had  got  only  as  far  as  the  foot  of 
the  trellis  when  I  found  it.     She     ad  out- 
witted Providence.      I  sent  for  Atn.a  and 
together  we  prowled  and  searched  about  the 
garden  in  the  lessening  rain.     Presently  he 
paused   beside   the    closest   tangles   of  the 
potato  creeper,  "  Chupsie  !  "'  said  he- the 
word  was  half  a  whisper,  half  a  soft  whistle 
—  and  bent  down.     I  looked  too,  a-i.^  there 

1  Quietly. 


and  L    ^  '^  '"  ^''^  ■^■'^'"g  removed 

utile      Plamly  they  connected  me  with  the 

scolding.  Ten  days  of  steady  rain  and  then 
t.s  misfortune!  Every  other  bid  ts 
s'lent  m   shelter,   only    these    r^^  I 

forth     their     tale     of    ^  i  ^^"'^'^ 

cneir     tale     of    dolorous      njustice 

W  at  weather  to  be  obliged  to  fledg    Tl 

pretty  accommodation  for  a  young  family 

•n  a  potato-creeper  !     Wa«  T  /^^  7^ 

they    had    been' brought    up  rr 
themselves,  hatched   exactly  th"  T'" 

vear?      r     u    r         '^^^"'y  this   time  last 

S     b     "m         "°'   ^""^^'"^    ^''-^    they 
•"'ght   be   able    to    mind    their   own    busi 

-ss?     "When    you    have   quite  rished." 


200       The  Crow's-Nest 


I  whistled  humbly,  "  I  "11  explain,"  but  I 
couldn't  get  a  word  in,  as  the  saying  is, 
edgeways,  and  finally  I  fled,  leaving  them 
still  expressing  their  opinion  of  well-inten- 
tioned people. 


WE  Waived  at  September  and 
the  rams  are  "breaking."  For 
J-o    months    and   a   half  they 

armies  on  the  rcr''''u"P°""''"-'^''y' 
-edbattaitrandLXoff'T'"^^'^ 
J'^e  attack,  too.  is  aslrtic'^rw'inr^"^'- 
onleTranlJ^'^^-^^'erjiXT;: 

^-  security  from  the'shelf   H^-T 
S?h:^^'' °^-- will  often  s^^u^^'; 

^fsht^raToiirr^--^^ 

°^t''eimpa,pab,eT;r:^7otV::  •'■'"' 
"ent,  possible  to  break  in        °"^  "  ^"^'^o"- 

""e's  horizon  and  the  S  J  ?""'^  °^ 
««•  I  wonderTf -r  ,?  "^""^"^"'^i- 
^"at  far-fSr       ^'S'"''-^''--  will  caJl 


202 


The  Crow's- Nest 


Thin,  ragged,  white  clouds  sail  over  the 
rose-bushes,  just  low  enough  to  touch  the 
fresh  red  shoots,  which  are  now  is  lovely  to 
look  at,  all  in  new  curling  leaf,  as  ever  they 
can  be  in  full  rose  time.     That  of  course  is 
written  when  there  are  no  roses  here  to  con- 
tradict me.     There  is  one  red-brown    tone 
that  one  never  sees  except  on  a  new  leafing 
rose-bush  and  in  the  eyes  of  sime  animals, 
and  there  is  a  purple  which  is  m  xed  nowhere 
else   at   all.     And    it    all    shines— how   :t 
shines!  — under  the  soft  cloud  fringes,  and 
when  by  accident  a  full-hearted  deep-pink 
rose  comes  and  sits  alone  among  these  young 
twigs  and  sprays  the  sight  gives  that  strange 
ache  of  pleasure  that  hints  how  difficult  per- 
petual ecstasy  would  be  to  bear.     The  rose- 
bed  sleeps  in  the  rains,  but  it  sleeps  with  one 
eye  open ;  I  seldom  look  m  vain  for  at  least 
one  flover.     Now  it  is  full  of  buds ;  the  rose 
of  yesterday  is  only  waiting  for  to-morrow. 
Marechal  Niels  have  waited  in  adifferent  way; 
they  have  not  put  out  new  roses  but  they  have 
clung  obstinately  to  the  old  ones.     "  At  once 
the  silken  tassel  of  my  purse  terr,  and  its 


eluc- 


a  •''-  vy  head  and  dines 
tantJy  giving  up  jj,  ^y 
sweetness  and  lasting  so 

that  .n  sheer  indignation 

J  head.     The  garden  r., 

Ill    the   rains-flowers   ar.     ,,y,r   n 

-d  daily  confess  to  the  .  .n  thT    ti 
reailypretendedtodor-hou   |„.        4 

'ease  of  vitality  has  spn-.ruJ,,    V'" 
-en  thepoorstickstLA^^a  ;:!"•=; 
up  the  dahlia,  with,  h,       fo,  "^        "^'^ 
ave  been  cut  off  untimely  and 
""d.     There  is  sadness  in  thi- 
consider  ,  . 

-y  slaying  t^p  of  ad    !.'   ""   °"    ''' 
'■"g  and  distin.T         ^'^^°dar  ^his  morn- 


7  peta 

»  m-sjiety 

'ran -ably    ong 

|uent  V  cut  ,ff 

.es  wijd'v  now, 

:^yer    'han    ever, 

never 

A  new 


)at  they 
•■f  trving  to 
■vill  not 


kE"":^-  _ 


204       The  Crow's-Ncst 


that  superintends  the  Kast  is  a  strange  bird, 
never   happy,  seldom  in  a   good    humour. 
He  declaims,  he  soliloquizes,  he  frequently 
flies  off  and  says  "  I  '11  enquire ;  "   but  his 
principal  note  is  that  of  simple  derision   and 
he  plainly  finds  humbug  in  everything.    He 
has  no  period  of  tender  innocence;  some 
crows  are  older  than  others  but  nobody  has 
ever  se;n  a  young  crow.     There  is  nothing 
like  him  in  England;   the  rooks  make   as 
much  noise   perhaps,  but  only   for  a  little 
while  in  the  evening;  the  crow's  comment 
upon   life   is  perpetual.     Remote,  across  a 
valley,  it  is  a  kind  o'  .antastic  chorus  to  the 
reckless   course   of  men;   overhead  it  is  a 
criticism  of  the  most  impertinent  and  espion- 
age without  warrant.     These,  of  course,  are 
only  country  crows ;  in  the  cities,  like  other 
bad  characters,  they  take  greater  liberties,  be- 
coming more  objectionable  by  sophistication. 
The  butterflies  have  come  back  as  if  by 
appointment ;  one  big  blue  and  black  fe.iow 
is   carrying   on  a  violent  flirtation   with  a 
fuchsia   under  my  very  nose.     She    hasn't 
much  honey,  and  he,  according  to  Tiglath- 


on    lightest    tin.  'l       ^    P*"'*    '''^■re 

'  »«gl.t  gn  >omethi„g  d„„e.  .,  ,,  •    "'"= 


'.5J^ 


20 


6       The  Crow's-Nest 


from  flower  to  flower  quite  indifferent.  Last 
night  a  hawk-moth  dined  with  us  on  the 
dahlias  in  the  middle  of  the  table  He 
thought  it  a  charming  sunny  day  under  the 
lamps,  and  enjoyed  himself  enormously 
only  leaving  with  the  ladies  as  he  objected 
to  tobacco.     We  should  be  delighted  to  see 

him  again. 

A  morning  ride,  1  am  glad  to  say  is  not 
considered  an  adventure  into  the  world,  and 
morning   rides   are    again  possible  without 
the   risk  of  a  drenching.     I  have  left  Pa 
and  Arabi  in  the  seclusion  of  their  stables  all 
this  time,  but  for  no  fault,  as  we  should  say 
if  we  were  selling  them.     Horses,  I  fear 
am  of  those  who  fondly  think,  were  created 
first  in  a  mood  of  pure  pleasure,  and  a  care- 
ful Providence  then  made  men  to  look  atter 
them.      I    should    not   like  to  tell  Thisbe 
this;  she  takes  the  orthodox  view  about  the 
succession  of  beasts  and  it  might  make  her 
consider  one  unsound;  but  I  do  not  mind 
saying  it  in  print  where  it  is  hkely  to  do 
less    harm.     Besides,   my    friend  the   Ben- 
gal Lancer  entirely  agrees  with  me.  and  that 


Parard^A^  U-^""'  ""  '  P-^essional  opinion 
Pat  and  Arab,  came  walking  in  on  the  shelf 
one  spring  morning  a  year  anH  ,   I,  1/ 
very  meek  and  sorrv  fZl         ,       ''^  ^^°' 
climbed    up  evervone     .  T;''^"'  '^^^'"S 

i 'glath-Pileser  bought  them  on  a  day  with 

'or  less   than  twenty  pounds  apiece      Th. 
Pnce   seems    low   when  you    co'nsSr   S 
Arabis    papa    was    a    Persian    ^f       j- 
■"^    P..»   an   Eng„-,h  .hr^r'^™ 

'  Wise    Government     which     n^K  a 

fhe    Remount    Department.       It    will    Z 
enough  to  say  that  we  do  not  boast  If  h 

^  "   ''  "   ""^^   foal    that   knows    his 


2o8       The  Crow's-Nest 


own  mother.     Arabi  has  a  pink  streak  on 
his    nose    which    was    plainly   one   of   his 
mother's  charms,  but  this,  as  I  cannot  see 
it  when  I  am  on  his  back,  troubles  me  less 
than  his  four  white  stockings  and  hoofs  to 
match,  which  were  also  bequeathed  to  him 
by  her.     But  his  glossy  coat  and  the  arch 
of  his  neck  and  his  paces  he  inherits  from  his 
more  distinguished  parent,  after  whom  also  we 
have  had  the  weakness  to  name  him.     I  don't 
like  to  think  of  Arabi's  tie  with  the  country; 
she  probably  went  in  an  ekka'  with  a  string 
of  blue  beads  across  her  forehead  ;  but  Pat's 
mother's    family    ."as    pure    tribal    Waziri, 
which    means   that   with    the   manners  and 
make  of  your  English  sire  you  come  into 
the  world  with  the  wiry  alertness  your  ma- 
ternal grandfather  learned  in  getting  round 
lofty  mountain    corners  in  a   hurry,  and  a 
way  of  lifting   your   feet   in   trotting   over 
stony    country    that    is    pretty    to    see,  and 
a  pride  in   your   dark   grey  coat  and   iron 
muscles    that    there    is  no    need  to  conceal 
either.     Of  course  you  may  also  inherit  the 

»  Country  cart. 


''e  had  hLZTZTu'''  ^'^^  "^^  ^^^-e 
-''o  people  wer?    He^'  'L''"'^  ^°  ''"- 

'^^-H' of  it,  but  that  is  all      h""'^''' 
anima   and  he  h,„  u-        ,      "^  '^  »  '^oble 

■"-  .hint    *ey"  ,t"d?'"'?'-     '  »"»- 
""y  of  the  C„„„,„j„.i„  ™'  *™,  <!>' 

^at  IS  the  prouder  th^  ' 
pretends  to  bite  h;«  r,  ^    ^"P^  ^"d 

'-'^  P-t  a  perambuil/anvT  '^'r''^ 
""%  slightly  consider  a  le„rh^  ^'^  '"'^  ^'" 
,  ^-"  pipe  along  the  road  n^'P''^^^'^ 
I ''as  his  objects  of,       ■  ^"'  "^^"   ^^t 

t-  «  a'-n  a  rrn"rf  ^''^'^'"°"^ 
r'othes.     At  such  I  ^°°'  '"  '''^ck 

I  At  such  a  ^person   he  will  always 


2 TO       The  Crow' s-Nest 


i 


shy   violently.     This   is   a   cause    of  great 
inconvenience   and    embarrassment   to    us. 
There  is  one   perfectly  moffens.ve    gentle- 
man,  rather   stout,  who    beams   upon   the 
world  through  his  spectacles  with  unvarying 
amiability,  whose   perfectly  respectable   oc- 
cupation  no   doubt   compels   h.m    to  wear 
black,  and  whom  it  is  our  misfortune  con- 
stantly to   meet.     Neither  soft  words    nor 
smiting  will  induce  Pat  to  pass  th.s  person 
without  a  wild  affrighted  curve  away  from 
him.     The  first  time  he  smiled ;  the  secon 
time  he  looked  mildly  surprised ;  the  third 
time  he  mantled  with  indignation,  and  now 
he  always  mantles.     It  has  gone,  1  assure 
you,  quite  beyond  a  joke.     And  we,  .ha 
can  we  do?     You  cannot  apologize  for  a 
thing  like  that.     One's  usual  course  when  ^ 
pony  shies  is  to  take  him  up  to  the  obje 
Ld  let  him  sniff  it  so  that  he  will  kn 

better  the  next  time,  but  how  ask  an  elder 
self-respecting  gentleman  to  allow  himself 
be  sniffed  in  that  way?     This  mornin 
saw  the  object  coming,  and  had  an  .nsp« 
tion.     «  Let  us  turn  round,    said  1  to  i>g 


•  v^:. 


turned  and  waited,  with  the  c  ^^ 

--.  one  from  the  oTp^^^    "■  °^.  ^'^P^^-g 
'nan  in  black  came  n  ?"''"'°"-     '^^^ 

'-h-Pileser  laidT  e^s  X^'rV"'^  ^'> 
"eck.     Would  you        ;;  "f  p'?'  ""  ^^^'« 

■ton  =ver.     W,L°:    '""'""S  "or.  furiou, 

"'^'lad   last  night.     4,^7"'"°"^ 

-d^  to  Arabia's  he  pautd^orrr''' 
«  a  small   boulder  that  h.^   ^°^ '^'^''"^^ 

'^^velled  many  ve  e  h' '""' "''^ '■°''^  ^°" 
™-y  to-morrowf  Fo!r\T'  "'"  ^'■-^' 
-e  ycu  afraid?"  Tfltp-^'^''  °^  "^^ 
"^-  " To  us"  said  h  «'"'•■ '■^P^-^d 
^oad.buttolre.l       t'     '"'"'^^^'"^oJd 

^-''i   it  lints  1     ""'"'  P^--^-  "l^e 

"-"his^rbtSner'T^'^"^- 

"■^^^   -th    emotions^":L^°,l!j-- 


voursinyourbed.     To  him  .t  meant  that 
Ihe  young  grass  was  everywhere  spnng,ng 
and  the  turf  everywhere  softening  under  foot, 
"nd  no  doubt  hi  reflected  once  more  upon 
he   insoluble   problem  presented  by  he 
ropes  and  your  meals  in  a  trough.     Th, 
morning  his  experienced  eye  discovers  all  he 
TpecS   and    more. -puddles,    channels 
and  other  suspicious  circumstances      T  a 
Ine  was  not  there  yesterday,  no  doubt  a 
Sd  blast  had  unearthed  it  and  was  smmg 
:  hind      as  we  passed,  waiting  for  just  such 

a   breakfast  as  Arabi  knows  he  composes, 
Th'a7th:wUd  beast  didn't  happ^^^^^^^^ 
there  on  this  occasion  was   great  luck  to, 
tJabi  and  you  can  see  ^e  -dievd 
"Well."  said  I,  unsympathetic.     1  thini 
A  aL\  of  it  is  nonsense  all  the  same, 

itavelrab^a  sound  cuff  that  drew  off  b 
atfeln  and  he  cantered  past  It  without 

"i  familiar  road  wound  round  our  0. 

hill,  the  Roy-Regent's  hiUcrow-^^^^^^^^^ 
castle,   and   Summer   Hill,      it  w 


.f'^AX 


cnttmining  to  be  as  obscrv.n,  a,  A„Ki    "J 
lind  «onder,  round  ever,  1,"        ''  "'' 

f."ho„of.b„„dJi»-;»-2= 

that  mountains  nfay  sue^est  I        T"^'" 

especially  mountainVir  J  Hi:  r'^' 
-n  behind  wall,  waves  ransfixe"  Tn  7"' 
unbroken  lines  against  the  skT  "^ 

^waysreeiapassL:;it:tiorL^r: 

matter  at  an  inconvenient  level      But  Th 

fful.   almost   mteresting.     The    mior    / 
-ong  them  and  turns' them  devel  1^ 

The  jungle    triumphs    in    the   rains;   it 


f 


214 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


overwhelms  the  place.    Even  on  the  shelf  it  is 
hard  enough  to  cope  with,  creeping  up,  licking 
and  lipping  the  garden  through  the  paling; 
but  out  upon  the  public  khud-sides  it  is  un- 
checked and  insatiable.     We  hate  the  jungle ; 
it  is  so  patient  and  desic  ng  and  unremit- 
ting, so  much  stronger  than  we  are.     Such 
constant   war   we    have   to    make    upon   it 
merely  to  prevent   it   from    swallowing  us 
alive.     It   will   plant   a   toadstool    in    your 
bedroom  and  a  tree  in  your  roof;  it  shrinks 
from  nothing.     That  is  why  we  hear  new- 
comers from  tidy  England  in  rapture  upon 
the  glorious  freedom  of  the  wilderness  with 
grim  displeasure;  and  point  to  the  crooked 
squares  of  our  pathetic  little  estates,  pain- 
fully redeemed  and  set  smugly  about  with 
posies,  saying  "Admire  that!"     And  it  .s 
so  demoralizing,  the  jungle.     The  oak,  tor 
instance,  at  home,  is  a  venerable  person je 
all  respect  and  some  of  us  used  to  worship. 
Here  he  is  a  disreputable  old  Bacchus  with 
an  untrimmed  beard  and  ferns  sticking  to  his 
branches.    Certain  English  flowers  even  alas 
that  I  should  say  it!  have  left  the  paths  ot 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


lis 

propriety  and  taken  permanently  to  unregu- 
lated  living.  The  dahlia  has  never  re- 
pented, and  the  tiger-lilies  brazen  it  out 
but  the  little  blue  face  of  a  convolvulus  I 
met  this  morning,  strayed  away  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  snake-plant  and  a  young  rhodo- 
dendron, said  with  wistful  plainness,  "  I  was 
a  virtuous  flower  once!  " 

Everything  is  still  very  damp,  and  in  the 
shade  very  chill,  and  we  were  glad  enough 
to  escape  the  cloud  that  suddenlv  sobered 
the  highway  just  as  we  turned  in 'upon  the 
shelf.     A  figure  moved   along  the  road  in 
the   greyness,  came    closer,    making   auto- 
matic movements  of  head  and  hands,  passed 
us  —  a  coohe  eating  a  cucumber.     It  was  a 
long  and  thick  cucumber,  and  he  was  eating 
the   nnd   and    the    seeds,   everything.      It 
seemed  a  cold,  unsuitable,  injudicious  thinff 
for  even  a  coolie  to  eat  in  the  rain.     We 
hoped   It   was   vici    ■.   indulgence,   but  we 
teared  it  was  his  breakfast. 


♦ 


Chap  ter    XVIII 

WE  have  entered  upon  the  period 
of  our  great  glory  and  con- 
tent ;  it  is  second  summer  in 
these   hills,  with  just  a  crisp 
hint  of  autumn  coming.     There  is  nothing 
left  of  the  rains  but  their  benedict:on  ;  all 
day  long  the  sun  draws  the  scent  out  of  the 
deodars  and  makes    false    promises   to    the 
garden,   where    they   believe    it    is   spring. 
The    field-daisies  and   the    hollyhocks   and 
the  mignonette  are  all  in  second  bloom  and 
the  broom  down  the  khud  has  kindled  up 
again.     The  person   who  is  really  puzzled 
is  the  lilac.     We  have  a  lilac  bush.     I  as- 
sure you  it  is  not  everybody  who  can  say 
so  in  the  town  of  Simla;  the  lilac  is  most 
capricious   about  where   she  will    stay    and 
where  she  wont  stay.     We  have  only  one; 
all  her  children  either  die  young  or  grow 
up   dwarfs.      However,   after   blooming  m 
the  most  delicious  and  heartbreaking  man- 


K  f 


" IJ  ' 

"er   in    April,    fainting   throuirh    r.^ : 

eomg  quite  distracted  in  IT-    ^  T  ""^ 
now  finds   new  sao   in    h  "''  ""^  '"" 

temptation  a  sail'he    to   i  "'"   ^"'^    ^'"^ 
of  the  calendar.    Yet  1    .  ''^""^'"'' 

."i-.nowhowjoiiin;°i:;x°;or 

■ng  some  cactus  dahlias  to  fi"  ''■ 

P'-e.  It  is  a  liberty  Twl^n-tVa"  'T' 
"th.sti.eofyear^u^Atl"  ;r.;;t 
can  deceive  the  dahlias      «  R„      ^  ^^ 


» 


2i8       The  Crow's-Ncst 


and    triumphantly   sought  me.     "  Behold," 
said  he,  "  it  has  an  onion."     He  was  dis- 
tressed to  contradict  me,  but  behold  it  had 
an  onion.     The  connection  between  an  on- 
ion and  a  lily  was  simpler  perhaps  to  Atma 
than  it  would  be  to  many   people;  but   1 
conceded  it.     Then  came  a  pedlar  of  apples 
from    a    neighbouring    garden.     We    shall 
have  apples  of  our  own  in  time,  but  our 
neighbour  down    the    khud    t     vight   of  it 
three  or  four  years  before  we  did,  and  there 
is  no  particular  reason  to  wait.     Our  neigh- 
bour's stu.dy   retailer  squatted  discouraged 
on    his   haunches  before    me.     His   brown 
muscles  stood  out  in  cords  on  his  arms  and 
legs,  his  face  was  anxious  and  simple  like  a 
child's.     "  If  your  honour  will  listen,"  said 
he,  "  half  over   Simla  I    have   carried   this 
burden  of  apples,  and  it  is  no  lighter.     My 
words   are  good  and    I    go    always    to    the 
verandah,  but  the  sahib-folk  will  not  buy.' 
"And  is  that,"  said  I,  eyeing  the  fruit, 
"a  strange  thing,  worthy  or'" 

He  picked  up  an  apple  and  held  it  dis- 
paragingly, at  arm's-length,  in  front  of  him. 


them   bacf    Y   "'\""''^^"''  -^en  I  carry 
,     °'^^'^-      "^"ur  honour  will  listen       v 

Wesrotisitthefaultof    h  -^^^ 

No.     '"=  answered  himsdf  withsoST 
-<=t'on.  "  it  is  the  fault  of  G^d  "  °"" 

on   the  ;    und   ''J  f:;:^;"  ^^^  his  load 

-d  he  Liled    ha  k  e  "     '  ''■'^■"""^■ 

overtook  him    ;/       '  ^'''^'^y  ^"'■'^'''y 

^^  took  h,m..t  was  a  serious  matter. 

heweJro^^f:'"'^'^-''^^"'^^^^"^^^^^^ 
^"-  n^d   sdd  mnnf  t""  l;'"^'''  ""^ 

Truly  you  are  no  donkey,  worthv  on.  ■• 
M>d   I  soothingly.    "  All    th.  Z    y        ' 


Tv      ^:^ 


The  Crow's-Nest 


220  ^ 

Z^honour  wishes  to  pay  eight  annas  I 
will  say  that  your  honour,  seeing  the  rotten- 
ness, would  give  no  more." 

I  would  not  profit  by  the  rottenness  since 
it  did  not  concern  me,  so  he  picked  out  of 
his  best  for  me  with  exclamations,  "  Lo,  how 
it  is    red  1 "     "  Listen,   this  one  will    be  a 
honey-wallah  !  "  and  almost  more  polishing 
than  I  could  bear.    The  cloud  departed  from 
his  honest  face,  it  was  that  I  had  paid  for; 
and  when   Tiglath-Pileser  passing   by  said 
that  I  had  been  imposed  upon  I  was  indig- 
nant.    He,  the  master,  would  not  have  an 
apple  though  they  are  really  very  good,  and 
neither  do  I  feel  so  disposed  ;   they  must  be 
made  into  a  pudding.    We  talked  for  a  little 
while  of  the  annoyance  of  reaching  that  criti- 
cal time  of  life  when  one  looks  askance  at 
a  casual  apple.     In  early  youth  it  is  a  trifle 
to  be  appropriated  at  any  hour;   between 
the  ages  of  ten  and  fourteen  it  is  preferable 
the  last  thing  before  going  to  bed.     After 
that  ensues  a  period  of  indifference,  full  of 
the  conviction  that  there  are  things  in  the 
world   more   interesting  than   apples;    and 


by  the  time  one  again  realises  that  there  is 
nothing  half  so   good,  circumstan  es  Tave 
changed  so  that  it  is  n,ost  difficult  to  dec  de 
when  to  eat  then,.    A  raw  apple  in  the  A^er 
can  fash,on  before  breakfast  is  adn.  t^^b; 

ag  ng  effect   upon   everything  else    and  all 

W.11  grant  that  it  is  in^possibl!  to  d;  iustic 
to  Its  flavour,  in^possible  to  cope  withTt    n 
any  way,  after  a  meal.     It  is  not  Z 
lilrp  (■!,„  ■  "°t  elusive  — 

iiKe  the  grape  or  the  Ivchee  •    if  ;.  r 

much  on  the  sDot      Th  ^^  ^°° 

tne  spot.      There  remains  the  im- 

promptu  occasion,  but  you  have  long  si"e 

come  to  regard  with  horror   anything  «  b 

ween  meals."     A  day  arrives  win  the  fact 

twL7t'"''"'"^^'^"^'^^^---i- 
and  if  W"  'PP'^-  Tiglath-Pileser 
and  I  considered  it  together  this  morning  ■ 

but  we  were  philosophic,  we  did  n-t  mind' 
we  remembered  that  up  to  threescore  years' 
and  ten  there  would  probably  always  be 
somebody  to  bake  them  for  us  and 'we  e 
happy  nevertheless.  Then  Tryphena  dm 
^nd  stayed  an  hour,  and  now  I  am  not  so 
happy  as  I  was.  '" 


» 


■J^.:,.:^«  'J^A.-:-^.  jmm^^W.. 


222 


The  Crow's-Nest 


f 


":<!* 


I  would  not  dwell  upon  her,  I  would  pass 
to  other  themes,  but  one  has  a  feeling  that 
Tryphena  has  been  too  much  omitted  from 
accounts  of  our  little  town.    Such  chronicles 
have  been  somehow  too  playful ;  one  would 
think  we  did  nothing  but  discover  affinities 
and  listen    to   the    band  and  eat  expensive 
thincrs  in  tins.     One  would  think  life  was  all 
joy  and  pleasure  whereas  there  are  Associa- 
tions of  every  kind.     Whatever  may  have 
been  the  case  in  the  golden  age,  or  the  time 
of  Lord   Lytton,   I   believe   that  the   great 
over-fed   conscience    of  Great    Britain    now 
sends  out  more  Tryphenas  every  year,  and 
their    good    works    have    to   be    seriously 
reckoned  with  in  considering  the  possibility 
of  remaining  here.     We  have  our  traditions, 
of  course,  but  we  are  practically  compelled 
to  live  upon  them,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
a  distant  world  should  hear  not  only  of  our 
declining  past  but  of  what  we  have  increas- 
ingly to  put  up  with.     I   would   not  have 
invited  Tryphena  to  occupy  a  chapter,  but 
as  she  has  walked  in  without  this  formality 
she  might  as  well  stay. 


iL_Wv. 


>.■       .,s. 


not  so  agreeable  when  I  am  ill  ''" 

few  people  are  — anr)  r      T  ""^g'"« 

time,  only  fi-on,    '      ,   ^'f'  ^'^'^«'  «  «uch  a 

ing  me  whenT  P'°P'7''°  ''^^  ^nd  of  see- 
S  '"c  wnen  J  am  wel .     Whv  in   h 

name,  when  you  are  fever^h  o  T' 

panting  for  breath,  youTofdh  '^""'^  "'■ 
--eptasa«icinle:.°?^lT-'^ 
person  who  never  thinks  of  you  until  ' 
become  a  helpless  object  to  whet  her  -T 
eousness  on,  who  comes  anH      a-         ^^^^' 

^°  •'e  on  her  parish  boots'     Wh     T  T' 
suffer  to  enable  her  to  71      .^  '''""''^  ^ 

^'^ou'dshehav'thltpt;''-      '^''^^ 
credit  at  my  expense       Th^"   '°  ''^'• 

^-reasoLb^orproplt;r""^^'^'" 
fo  >t.     Yet  I  have  f^M  u  ^  ^  ^"'  ^^erse 

e^iWetoldher,suchismyhypoc- 


224 


The  Crow's-Nest 


risy  how  good  it  was  of  her  to  come,  and 
she  has  gone  away  better  pleased  with  her- 
self than  ever.  .  , ,     . 

Tryphena's  attitude  toward  the  social  body 
by  which  she  is  good  enough  to  allow  her- 
self to  be  surrounded  is  a  mingling  of  com- 
passion   and    censure.     She  is    la  justiciere. 
She  will  judge  with  equity,  even  with  mercy, 
but   she    must   always  judge.     She  is  per- 
petually   weighing,     measuring,    criticising, 
tolerating,  exercising  her  keen  sense  of  the 
shortcomings  of  man  in  general  and  woman 
in  particular.     She  will  bring  her  standards 
and  set  them  up  by   your  bedside.     Youi 
scanty  stock  of  force  cannot  be  better  use: 
than  in  contemplating  and  admiring  them 
and  you  must  recognize  how  completely  sh^ 
herself  attains  them ;  you  have  no  alterna 
tive.     If  one  will  for  ever  strike  human  ba! 
ances  one  should  have  a  broad  fair  page  t 
do  it  on,  and  Tryphena's  is  already  ovei 
written  with  cramped   prejudices      It  is 
triviality,  but  Tryphena's  gloves  always  wni 
kle  at  the  thumbs. 

If  she  had  been  a  man  she  would  ha\ 


been  a  certam  k,nd  of  clergyman,  and  if  she 
had  been  a  clergyn^an  his  legs  ^ould  have 
gone  .n  ga.eers.  Indeed,  so^  „er  or  lair  she 
would  probably  have  added  to  the  nan.e t,' 
Tryphenus  the  glories  of  an  episcopal  see    She 

^spastm,s.es.oftheartof\i„;,y!eUt 
«ut  I  do  not  w,sh  to  be  kindly  rebuked 
In  that  respect  I  am  like  the  Roy-  w' 

ellY'Z  P"""^  ^'^'    ProvidencThas 

nabled  to  do  without  this  attention.     She 

has  more  principles  than  anv  one  person's 

-titled  to,  and  she  is  always  puttinrthem 
■nto  acfon  before  you.     I  think  it   s^a  n, 

ake  to  .magine  that  people  care  aboutX 
oblereasonsthatdirecto„e'sdoings;ifones 
domgs  themselves  provoke  interest   t  is  ex 
cepfonal  luck.     I  wish  somebody  would  tell 

«  deep  as  a  conviction  of  superiority  ■  and 
see  what  would  happen       I  ,„  c  ' 

nnf  k  ,-r    i^P^"      ^  am  sure  we  were 

"ot  born  to  ed.f  -  one  another. 

The  deplorable  part  of  it  is  that  Tryphena 

eaves  one  inclined  to  follow  her  in  the  steep 

d  narrow  path  that  leads  to  selftr' 

'find  myself  at  this  moment  not  only  in  a 
'5 


2  26       The  Crow's-Nest 


bad  temper,  but  in  a  vein  of  criticism  whicl 

I  am  inclined  to  visit  upon  persons  whom 

am  usually  entirely   occupied  in  admiring 

My  friend  the  Bengal  Lancer  has  just  ridde 

by,  with  his  hand  on  his  hip.     It  has  nev« 

struck  me  before  that  to  ride  with  a  hand  o 

the  hip  is  a  sign  of  irredeemable  vanity.   Th 

Gunner  was  here  to  tea  yesterday  —  he  of  tl 

Mountain  Battery  —  and  told  us  stories  c 

his  mules.  I  think  disparagingly  of  his  mule 

That  a  mule  will  "  chum  up  to  "  a  pony  ar 

kick  a  donkey,  seems  this  morning  an  in 

becile  statement  of  an  improbable  fact,  thouc 

I   admit  I   laughed  at  the  time,  it  was 

British.      The   unpaid   Attache   came   to 

The  unpaid  Attache  gives  one  the  imprt 

sion   of  never   allowing    himself  to   be 

charming   as  he    might  be.     What  fooli 

fear  can  justify  this  reticence  ?     Enthusias 

we  all  know,  is  permitted  to  the  gods  and 

foreigners  only,  but  even  an  unpaid  Attac 

can  afford  a  whole  smile. 

The  worst  that  can  be  said  of  Delia 
that  numbers  of  people  whom  she  does 
care  a  button  about  call  her  a  dear.     At  le 


-    <, 


»o  years  of  notn      r,  „.    ?'   ^•""fer 

uisposed  — this  morning—to  think  th.,-  .u 

■s  somewhere  in  her  a  hJ         u"'^''^ 

mentary   which  1  V.        .    ''  °^'''''^'  ^'e- 
"'  wnich  matches  th  s      Wh,»  ■      l 

'^orst  they  know  of  me       I  h  "  "'^ 

least  idea  bi.f  r  ,  ^  ''"''^  "ot  the 

J-as  produced   has  at  I    ^^'"^  "^''  '^  ^f'" 

'ikeTryphenVs  'nr""''"^^^ 

°"e'sguardagai„st      r  "S'"  ^^  °" 

-n  symptomf  „    ;  J  ZTl  ^'f  ''  "^^ 


» 


Chapter 


XIX 


M 


I    WAS    congratulating  the    hydrange 
this  morning  on  its  delightful  attitud 
toward  life.     This  is  no  virtue  of  th 
hydrangea's ;   it  is  a  thing  conferred 
a   mere   capacity,  but   how  enviable!     A 
through   its  youth  and  proper  blossomin 
time,  which  is  the  rains,  it  has  the  pmk-an( 
white  prettiness  that  belongs  to  that  peric 
When  it  is  over,  instead  of  acknowledge 
middle   age   by  any   form  of  frump.shne 
the  hydrangea  grows  delicately  green  agaii 
it   retires   agreeably,   indistinguishably   in 
leaves,   a    most   artistic   pose.      That,   to 
passes  in  these  sharp  days  when  the  sun 
only  gold  that  glitters,  and  the  hydrang* 
taking   its   unerring  tone  from  the  seasc 
turns  a  kind  of  purplish  rose,  and  still  nev 
drops  a  petal,  never  turns  a  hair.    In  the  e 
the  hydrangea  will  be  able  to  say  with  m 
that  it  has  not  died  without  having  live 


-■.>•» 


Sooner  or  later  I  might  perhaps  have  seen 
that  for  „,yself,  but  it  was  Cousin  Ch riS 
who  pointed  it  out  to  me.     It  is  one  of    h 

sutler  and  more  gratifying  r.,:?:;^^^,^" 
ness  to  ask  persons  of  taste  to  help  you  to 
enjoy  your  garden;  and  at  no  one's  expLe 

v-nnstina  s.  She  spends  more  time  with  me 
here  under  the  pencil-cedar  than  any  one  e  e 
do  s.  partly  because  I  think  she  likes  me  a 
1.  tie  and  the  garden  a  great  deal,  and  pTrtly 

b  cause  she  has  fallen,  recently    upon^vl' 
idle  circumstances.  ^ 

We  always  thought,  she  and   I,  that  we 
should  more  or  less   tak^   i-^  , 

"^^^-^^  friends  JI  Itl'i;;^'''^^'^- 

on  r  f  °"''   ^^^P^"'^^    habits    and 

Trsin'T  ;""'"^^-^P°fher 
nteresting  handwriting  conveying  a  view 
in    terms    verv    npc       r  ■ 

nade  to  flu  Constantly    we    were 

n^adetofeel  that  upon  the  basis  of  human 
intercourse -the  delicate  terms  of  which 
who  canquiteexposeP-we  had  things    o 


♦ 


-  1^  IPI 


230 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


give  each  other,  and  constantly  we  said  with 
intention,  "  Next  summer  I  must  really  man- 
age to  meet  her."  That  is  all  1  knew  of 
Cousin  Chr  ina,  except  that  life  had  offered 
her,  somehow,  less  than  she  had  a  title  to, 
and  that  she  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in 

her  garden. 

And  then— "on  sait  trop  de  cela,  que 
les  heures  sont  compteesa  I'homme  qui  doit 
.nourir,  et  on  agit  comme  si  le  tresor  de  ces 
heures  etait  inepuisable,  Toccasion  'ndefini- 
ment  renouvable  et  nos  amis  eternels. 
Cousin  Christina  died  last  year,  and  we  had 

never  met.  ,    ,       ,       u 

It  will  be  judged  how  much  I  value  hei 
visits  now,  now  that  she  has  so  far  to  come 
and  her  efforts  to  make  me  understand ;  w( 
who  remain  are  so  deaf.  There  were  man, 
points  at  which  the  world  irritated  her  whj( 
she  was  conditioned  in  it;  and  I  think  thi 
remoteness  of  this  place  appeals  to  her  n 
her  freedom;  she  is  pleased  in  its  great  line 
and  vast  spaces  which  yet  hold  just  th 
touch   of    human   enterprise   and   affectio; 

I  "La  Pia." 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


231 


which  she  too  thought  essential,  here  in  my 
garden.  She  seems,  at  all  events,  to  belong 
to  the  vague,  as  if  she  loved  it,  and  of  course 
1  can  never  lay  my  hand  on  her. 

She  is  devoted  to  the  garden,  constantly 
she  trails  about  it,  having  nothing  to  say  to 
me,  with    precisely  that   attitude    toward   a 
rose  and  that  hand  under  a  top-heavy  aster 
which  separates  the  true  lover  from  the  mere 
admirer.     Dahlias  swing  free  as  she  passes, 
and  leaves  that  keep  the  sun  off  the  convol- 
vuluses get  out  of  their  wav.     It  is  not  the 
wind,  It  is  Cousin   Christina.     She  is  more 
intimate  with   the   flowers    than    I ;   almost 
mvanably,  when   I  show  her  anything  new 
in  bloom  she  informs  me  "  I  saw  that  yester- 
day."    She  does  not  seem  to  think  it  a  lib- 
erty to  see  another  person's  flowers  before 
the  person  herself.     I  criticise  her  there. 

I  cannot  put  down  what  she  says  in  the 
form  of  dialogue,  because,  although  the  mean- 
ing IS  plain,  it  seems  to  take  some  other 
5>he  herself  is  amused  at  the  idea  of  confin- 
ing her  within  quotation  marks.  It  comes 
to  this  that  I  can  give  you  only  an  essence. 


* 


232 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


^ 


an    extract,   of   what   she   conveys.      How 

blundering    and     explosive,     after     Cousin 

Christinas    way,    arc    the    great   words    ot 

other  people !     I   like  sleeping  in  the  attic 

because    the  sun    climbing   up    behind    the 

shoulder    of  Jakko,    comes    in    there    first. 

This    morning,    looking    up    through    the 

little    high    window   in    the    wall     I    saw    a 

hawk     saihng     with     broad     sunlight     on 

his    wings,   though    none    had    reached    th. 

window  yet,  and  the  attic  was  still  grey  anc 

waiting.      I   have  seen  it  all  day,  the  hawV 

up  there  with  his  wings  gleaming,  but  it  wa 

Cousin    Christina  who  suggested  that  per 

haps  after  all  it  was  only  necessary  to  ns 

high   enough   to  meet  the  light.     A    mor 

definite  showing,  it  appears,  was  what  sh 

lacked  most  in  life.     Among  a  bewilderin 

worldful  of  facts,  appearances  ana  incident 

vague,  she  complains,  is  the  short  existenc 

and  untrustworthy    the  interests  which  a, 

our   only    guides   to   spend,  it    to  the    be 

account.     She  seems   grieved   now    to    di 

cover  how  much  more  there  was  and  he 

„Hi -h  better  worth  doing.     Upon  one  thn 


■  ■,  fcl»n  "'•fc.  — ^  ..^-  r,,l 


The  Crow's-Ncst 


233 


only   I    fc...|   that  she   congratulates    herself 
Among  our  poor  chances  there  is  one  which 
'"    supreme,    and   .he    had  it.      Within    her 
radius  sne..«,.     The  mirror  was  hers  which 
pnnts  the  lovely  surjgestion  of  things,  and  I 
have  learned  fron,  her  and  from  the  garden 
th  It  there  is    no   finer   or  more  delicate  or 
more  charming  occupation  for  a  person  of 
lusure  than  to  sit  and   polish   her  mirror. 
She  d,d  not  live  as  long  as  I  wish  to  do. 
«nd   I   th.nk  at    the    time  she  would   havj 
("-•en  glad   ..  stay.      Nevertheless,  she  looks 
w.th     no   great    encouragement    upon    the 
efforts  after  completer  health  which   I  hone 
I  have  not  too  continuously  referred  to  in 
these  chapters.     I  gather  from  her  that  if 
you  are  asked  to  an  entertainment,  you  do 
not  reproach  your  host  that  it   is  so  soon 
over   nor  are  you  supposed  to  resent  other 
people   getting    more  extended    invitations. 

I  he  hghts  and  the  music  please  you,  but 
at  the  end  you  never  hesitate  to  step  out- 
s'de  agam   into  the  dark.      Perhaps  we  are 

II  here  qu.te  as  long  as  we  are  wanted, 
'-'fe  >s  very  hospitable,  but  she  cannot  put 


2  34       The  Crow's-Nest 


on  every  card  "  i  to  70  years."  I  gather 
that  these  are  Cousin  Christina's  views; 
and  I  reply  that  it  is  easy  to  be  wise  after 
the  event,  which  I  am  nevertheless  still 
inclined   to   postpone. 

On  days  when  life  is  a  pure  pleasure  she 
is  not  much  with  me,  but  on  days  when  it 
is  a  mere  duty  —  she  knew  many  of  those 
herself,  poor  dear  —  I  can  always  depend 
upon  her.  It  was  she  who  lifted  her  long- 
handled  glasses  and  looked  at  Thisbe,  who 
one  morning  came  and  stood  in  the  sun 
between  us,  and  quoted, — 

«<A  happy  soul  that  all  the  way 
To  heaven  hath  a  summer's  day," 

which  exactly  prints  Thisbe,  and  she  who 
described  Lutetia  as  soothing  but  uninterest- 
ing, like  a  patent  food  —  her  invalid's  fancies 
seem  to  cling  to  her.  Cousin  Christina  is  a 
little  difficult  to  please;  she  dismissed  the 
fresh-coloured,  vigorous  Alexandra  very 
shortly  as  a  nice  thing  growing  in  a  garden 
and  when  I  hinted  that  Alexandra  held 
views  of  her   own  she   admitted   that   the 


.tfJ^M 


xm\j' 


The  Crow's-Nest       235 

creature  had  a  strong  scent.     She  permits 
herself  these  vagaries,  these   liberties  with 

she  finds,  I  fear,  a  trifle  limited.     And  she 
has  a  courage  of  expression  which  belongs  I 
am  sure  only  to  the  disembodied.     NothiL 
rouses  her  to  more  impatience  than  the  ex 
press,on««  quite   a    character."      Is   it    „ot 
deplorable    and    distressing,    she   demands, 
that  we  are  not  ail  characters  ?     She  herself 
was  very  much  of  a  character,   one  could 
•mgme  soft,  stupid,  little  women  saying  so 
at  meetmgs  to  dress  dolls  for  zenanas,  a^d 
how  ,t  would  irritate   her  when    the  m.id 
imputation  was  brought  home  to  her.     She 

-sdehghtful  to  take  one's  indignations  to; 
he  underhnes  every  word,  though  she  pre- 

ends  a  tolerance  for  the  UnintelHgent  which 
am  sure  she  does  not  feel.     "Consider," 

I  almost  heard  her  say,  "if  we  clever  ones 
of  the  world  were  not  so  few.  how  miserable 
the  ship.d  ones  would  be  !  Secure  in  their 
gruntmg  majority  they  let  us  smite  them 
and  turn  the  other  cheek,  but  if  they  had  to 
grunt  sohtarily!"     She  sometimes  forgets 


'Twrji  s^MWft^tr 


236       The  Crow's-Nest 


like  that,  that  she  is  gon-,  is  not.  How 
sharp  must  have  been  the  individuahty  that 
refuses  so  obstinately  to  blend  with  the  uni- 
versal current ! 

In  the  simple  mosaic  here,  put  together 
at  odd  times,  piece  by  piece  rubbed  up  as  it 
came  and  set  in  its  place,  many  of  the  frag- 
ments are  here.  I  know  this  because  thev 
are  not  things  that  would  naturally  occur  to 
me,  whereas  they  correspond  exactly  with 
the  sentiments  I  know  she  used  to  hold.  I 
have  nevertheless  written  them  out  without 
scruple  because  she  seems  in  a  way  to  have 
given  them  to  me. 

My  possession  in  her  is  uncertain  after 
all,  hardly  greater,  I  suppose,  than  a  kind 
of  constructive  regret.  Yet  somehow  1 
imagine  it  is  more  tangible  than  hers  in  the 
asters  and  the  carnations.  Her  impressions 
were  always  strong  and  her  affections  always 
loyal;  but  divested,  denuded  as  she  is,  I 
fancy  it  must  be  only  the  memory  that 
flowers  are  beautiful  that  brings  her  here, 
poor  ghost. 


Chapter    XX 


IT  IS  sharp  on    these   mountains    now, 
keen,  glorious  weather.    In  the  house 
Thisbe  cowers  over  a  fire  from  morning 
to  night.     I  call  it  abject ;  she  retorts 
that  no  English  winter  has  ever  produced  in 
her  so  much  goose-flesh,  and  that  she  came 
to  India  to  be  warm.     Even  I  must  bend  to 
acknowledge  the  virtues  of  a  hot-water  bot- 
tle, and  I  have  abandoned  the  pencil-cedar; 
the  deck  chair  now  chases  the  sun.     Every 
hour  we   shift   farther   and   farther   to    the 
west,  until  at  about  four  o'clock  he  dips  be- 
hmd  the  castle  of  the  Princess,  and  then  we 
grow  very  grey  and  melancholy  on  the  shelf. 
It  is,  after  all,  the  great  sun  of  India;  if  it 
falls   steadily  upon  your  feet  it  will  slowly 
warm  them  through  the  shivering  air;  but 
nothing,  not  even  a  dahlia,  must  come  be- 
tween you  and  it.     Even  a  dahlia  makes  a 
difference.      The   glare  upon    this  page  is 


::'m^W:F'P^'^:^t 


238       The  Crow's-Nest 

particularly  unpleasant,  but  I  have  perma- 
nently closed  my  parasol ;  the  double  sensa- 
tion of  icy  fingers  and  toasting  feet  was 
worse.  It  is  more  than  I  bargained  for,  a 
week,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  beyond  my  con- 
tract time ;  and  only  the  fear  of  taking  cold 
there  keeps  me  from  going  into  the  house. 

Whatever  forebodings  the  garden  feels  it 
puts  a  brave  front  upon  the  matter.  It  is 
smart  with  zinnias  now;  in  ranks  they 
stand,  like  soldiers,  always  at  attention.  I 
have  no  patience  with  people  who  are  too 
ffisthetic  for  zinnias,  who  complain  of  their 
stiffness  and  their  commonness  and  what 
not.  I  think  the  zinnia  a  particularly  de- 
lightful creature,  full  of  courage  and  charac- 
ter and  cheerful  confidence,  and  here  where 
we  have  to  make  such  a  fight  for  a  bit  of 
colour  against  the  void  it  is  invaluable.  It 
may  not  be  exactly  a  lovable  flower,  but 
what  of  that  ?  Many  of  us  must  be  content 
to  be  estimable.  There  is  even  joy  in  a 
zinnia.  From  where  I  sit  I  look  through  a 
fringe  of  them  along  the  paling  where  they 
almost  glitter  in  the  sun.     Beyond  are  a  few 


ik^^wwm^'^m 


The  Crow's- Nest      239 


dark  deodar  tops  and  an  oak  from  which  the 
last  yellow  leaves  are  f?uttering,  fluttering, 
and  behind  the  tracery  of  this  the  blue  sky 
bending  to  the  still  sharp  snowy  ranges.  If 
you  shut  your  eyes  and  succeed  in  seeing 
that,  you  may  almost  forget  that  I  am  in 
India  and  you  somewhere  else;  we  are  both 
really,  very  near  Thibet  and  not  far,  I 
imagine,  from  heaven. 

Nor   would   anybody,    I    am    sure,   ever 
think   of   India   and    chrysanthemums    to- 
gether.      Yet    the    shelf   is    glorious   with 
chrysanthemums,   purple    and    bronze   and 
gold  and  white.     My  gardening  now  takes 
the  form  of  kind  attentions  to  the  chrys- 
anthemums.     Atma  will  tie  them  up  with 
what  I  can  only  call  swaddling  strings,  round 
their   necks   or   their   waists   or    anywhere 
without  the  slightest  regard  for  their  com- 
fort.     Whereas    if  there   is    one   thing    a 
chrysanthemum  pleads  for,  it  is  freedom  to 
exercise   its   own   eccentric   discretion   with 
regard    to  pose.     There   is  no  refreshment 
to  exile  like  the   cold   sharp   fragrance   of 
chrysanthemums,  especially  white  ones.     It 


r-'V'-^'F 


2  40       The  Crow's-Ncst 

brings  back,   straight   back,   the   glistening 
pavement  of  Kensington  High  Street  on  a 
wet  November  night   and   the   dear   dense 
smell  of  London  and  a  sense  of  the  delight 
that    can    be   bought    for    sixpence    there. 
Delight  should  be  cheap  but  not  too  cheap. 
I  am  thankful  sometimes  for  the  limitations 
of  our  shelf  and  the  efforts  we  must  make  to 
keep  it  pretty,  and  the  fact  that  we  have  to 
consider   whether  leaf-mould   is  not  rather 
dear   at   fourpence   a   basket.     It   must  be 
difficult   to   keep  in    relation  with  a  whole 
mountain-side,  which  is  the  estate  of  some 
people,  or  with  six  thousand  rupees  a  month, 
which  is  the  pay  of  a  Member  of  Council. 
I  should  lease  most  of  the  mountam-side,  I 
think,  and  put  the  rupees  in  bags  and  lock 
them  up  in  a  vault,  just  anyhow,  as  the  rajahs 
do.     To  be  aware  that  you  had  a  vault  full 
of  rupees  in  bags  would  remove  every  care 
from  life,  but  not  to   be  obliged  to   know 
exactly  how  many  bags  there  were  would  fill 
it  with  peace  and   ecstasy.     There  is  solid 
comfort  in  a  bag  of  rupees  — I  have  pos- 
sessed, at  times,  a  little  one  — but  in  a  vast 


mm-^WL"^  «fc»-i*^^ir 


The  Crow's-Nest 


241 

income  which  you  never  see  there  must  be 
a  vague  dissatisfaction,  as  well  as  bank- 
books and  separate  accounts,  and  cheques 
and  other  worries  which  you  must  infallibly 
remember  to  date.  The  East  teaches  us 
much  of  simplicity  and  comfort  in  the  per- 
sons of  its  princes.  It  has  taught  me  the 
real  magnificence  of  rupees  in  a  bag. 

Atma  and  I  have  had  a  morning  of  great 
anticipuions.     It  is  time  now  to  look  for- 
ward, time  to  provision  the  garden  against 
the  greedy  spring,  and  to  make  plans.     In 
all  my  plans  the  paling  figures  largely;  it 
IS  a  hand,  rail  between  us  and  eternity,  natu- 
rally things  look  well  against  it.     Next  year 
we   are  going   to   have    hollyhocks,   single 
and  double,  pink  and  rose  and  white,  in  a 
rampart  all  along  the  pa-ing  as  it   follows 
the  sweep  of  the  shelf,  and  spraying  thickly 
out  from  these  the  biggest  and  whitest  mar- 
giaerites  that  will  consent  to  come  up,  and 
along  the  border  the  broad  blue  ribbon  of 
forget-me-nots.       Farther    on    where    the 
shelf  widens  in  front  of  the  house  and  the 
deodars  rise  thick  before  it,  a  creamy  Dev- 
16 


2  42       The  Crow's-Nest 

oniensis  is  already  in  possession  of  the  pal- 
ing,  and  here   my   goldenrod    is   to   stand 
fretted  against  the  firs,  and  dwarf  sunflow- 
ers  shall  fraternize  with  it ;   and  about  its 
skirts  shall  grow  myriads  of  coreopsis  single 
and  double,   and    masses  of  puce-coloured 
Michaelmas  daisies,  and    at  their   feet   the 
grateful    simple-minded    purple    petunia   in 
the   largest   families,  as   thick    as  ever  she 
likes.     I  did  not  mention  it  before,  because 
one  does    hate   to   be   always   complaining, 
but  Tiglath-Pileser  has  invaded  the  garden 
with  some  Japanese  plums ;  straight  up  they 
stick  in  the  widest  part  of  the  paling  bor- 
der, and  discouragingly  healthy  they  look 
Round  two  of  these  I  have  planted  portu 
laca  and  ringed  it  with  lobelia,  and   rounc 
the  other  two  lobelia,  and   ringed  it   witl 
little   pink   lilies.     The   roses   in   the   be( 
opposite    the    dining-room    window    hav 
grown  rather  leggy  with  age,  and  next  yea 
they  are  to  rise  out  of  a  thick  and,  as  I  se 
it,  low  forest  of  pink  and  white  candytufi 
and  the  bed  is  to  be  deeply  framed  in  pan 
sies.     We   are   to    have   foxgloves   on   th 


The  Crow's-Nest 


243 

khud  rank  above  rank,  and  wallflowers  on 
Its  more  accessible  projections,  and  in  the 
rams  the  gayest   crowd   of  dahlias   of  the 
ballet,  the  smgle  degenerates,  are  to  gather 
there      Atma  is  to  get  them  where  he  likes 
and  I  am  to  ask  no  questions.     I  am  home- 
sick   for  a  certain  very  sweet,  very  yellow 
rather  small  and  not  very  double  brier  rose 
that  belongs   to   other  years   when   it   was 
much  presented  to  "the  teacher,"  also  for  a 
modest  little  fringed  pink  with  a  dark  line  on 
Its  petals  which  made  the  kind  of  posy  one 
offered  to  one's  grandmother.     But  I  fear 
the  other  years  are   a  country  one  cannot 
rediscover  m   every  part;    though   I    have 
asked  diligently  of  persons  who  also  inhabited 
them  I  have  not  yet  found  my  gentle  pink 
ormy  httle  yellow  rose.     Thena  bed  of  irises 
IS  to  be  made  just  over  the  kitchen  roof,  to 
take  the  eye  off  it,  and  the  garden  lilies, 
which   are   mostly  madonnas,    are  to   fore- 
gather in  one  place  instead  of  being  scattered 
about   as    they   are  now   among   the   rose- 
bushes.    Thisbe   thinks    nothing   could  be 
lovelier  than  a  lily  and  a  rose,  but  I  cannot 


2  44       The  Crow's-Ncst 


agree  with  her.     The  combination  savours 
of  trop  de  luxe,  it  recalls  an  early  Victorian 
lacquered  tea-tray.     If  she  likes  to  mix  her 
garden-parties  like  that  she  can,  but  my  lilies 
must  express  themselves  with  no  other  flower 
to  interfere  with  them.     A  lily  has  so  little 
to  say  to  the  world ;  it  must  have  an  atmos- 
phere of  the  completes!  reticence  if  it  is  to 
speak  at  all.     The  roses  will  be  reinforced 
by  twenty-five  other  sorts  from  the  Govern- 
ment Gardens   at   Saharanpore ;   and  there 
are  to  be  several   new  admittances  to    the 
home  for  decayed  gentlewomen.    The  border 
nearest  the  upper  khud  has  been  arranged  to 
take  everything  we  don't  want  in  other  places 

the  phloxes,  the  antirrhinums,  the  lupins 

and  carnations  and  gaillardias  and  surpluses 
of  all  sorts  which  it  would  be  a  sin  to  throw 
away.  It  will  be  a  kind  of  garden-attic,  bul 
the  medley  should  be  bright.  Also,  to  dc 
him  justice,  Tiglath-Pileser  has  given  me  : 
wild-rose  hedge  round  our  whole  property 
along  both  roads  and  up  and  down  thi 
khuds.  Thick  and  fragrant  it  will  be  ii 
May   and    starred   with    creamy   blossoms 


"Hr  wi 


The  Crow's-Nest       245 


He  said  he  owed  me  something  on  account 
of  the  grafts,  and  I  could  not  conscientiously 
dispute  the  matter.     So  that  will  be  my  gar- 
den, I  hope,  of  next  year.     It  will  hold  no 
brilliant  effects ;  we  only  want  to  be  gay  and 
merry  on  the  shelf  and  to  keep  certain  rela- 
tions intact ;  we  have  no  room  to  be  ambi- 
tious.    I  know  now  at  least  where  my  garden 
begins  and  where  it  leaves  off,  and  a  little 
more.     Next  year  I  hope  to  pretend  to  that 
intimate  knowledge  which  comes  of  having 
gone  over  every  foot  of  it,  without  which  no 
one  should  say  anything,  or  even  write  any- 
thing probably.     However,  Elizabeth  '  did, 
and   everybody   liked  it.     Elizabeth   began 
as  a  complete  amateur ;  and  her  very  amateur- 
ity   disarmed   criticism.      She   had    nothing 
but  taste  and  affection,  and  her  struggles  to 
garden  upon  this  capital  have  often  sympa- 
thetically occurred  to  me  during  the  past 
summer.     Frequendy  I  have  had  occasion 
to  say  to  her,  speaking  quite  anonymously, 
"  What  would  you  think  of  that,  Elizabeth, 
supposing  you  lived  on  a  shel:  ?  "  and  often 

'  "  Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden." 


246       The  Crow's-Ncst 

in  the  depression  of  wend-  whether  it 

was  quite  fair  to  try  to  folic«  lier  charming 
fashion,  I  have  explained  that  I  really  have 
to  write  about  my  garden ;  I  was  turned  out 
in  it,  I  had  no  more  choice  than  Nebuchad- 
nezzar; and  that  I  sincerely  hope  I  have 
not  plagiarized  her  plants.  And  I  assured 
her  it  is  a  thing  I  would  never  do,  that  those 
hereinbefore  mentioned  grew  for  me,  every 
one,  from  seed  or  bulb  —  that  I  would  not 
ever  plagiarize  from  Mr.  Johnson,  whose 
Japanese  lilies  were  glorious  to  behold  this 
year  and  very  moderate. 

Notwithstanding  these  meek  statements  I 
feel,  here  at  the  end  of  the  book  and  the 
end  of  the  summer,  highly  experienced  and 
knowledgeable  about  gardens.  I  long  to 
pour  out  accumulated  facts,  and  only  a 
doubt  of  the  relative  value  of  advice  pro- 
duced at  an  altitude  of  seven  thousand  feet 
in  the  middle  of  Asia  prevents  my  doing  so. 
In  more  serious  moments  I  hardly  dare  hope 
that  I  have  not  already  talked  too  much 
about  my  garden  and  other  things,  but  no- 
body should  be  severe  upon  this  who  has 


Su^S^iT 


The  Crow's- Nest       247 

not  discovered  the  entertainment  to  be  got 
out  of  a  perfectly  silent  visiting  public.     I 
should  confess  that  I  have  enjoyed  it  enor- 
mously ;    it  would    be    becoming  in  me    to 
thank  that  mute  impersonal  body  for  a  de- 
lightful   summer.     It   is    such    an    original 
pleasure  to  go  on  saying  exactly  what  you 
like  and  briefly  imagine  replies,  as  well  as 
a  valuable  aid,  I  am  sure,  to  convalescence. 
To  have  increased  the  sum  of  the  world's 
happiness  by  one's  own  is  perhaps  no  great 
accomplishment,  yet  is  it  so  easy .?     Neither 
can  it  be  called  especially  virtuous  to  feel  a 
little  better,  but  what  moral  satisfaction   is 
there  to  compare  with  it  i 

The  summer  and  the  book  are  done. 
The  procession  of  the  Days  has  gone  by,  all 
but  a  straggler  or  two  carrying  a  tattered 
«ag;  It  took  seven  months  to  pass  a  given 
pomt.  There  is  a  rustling  among  the  roses 
when  the  wmd  comes  this  way,  but  nearly 
always  the  blue  void  holds  a  golden  silence. 
Belated  butterflies  bask  on  the  warm  gravel 
wth  wmgs  expanded  and  closed  down. 
W-    ng  IS  dung.:-ous  now ;  shadows  over- 


■M'f    .*.  tin 


m'-i 


248       The  Crow's-Nest 

take  you,  and  a  shadow  kills.  The  zinnias 
are  all  old  soldiers,  the  Snows  have  come 
nearer  in  the  night.  Some  morning  soon 
they  will  have  crept  over  the  shelf,  but  only 
Atma  will  see  that.  The  rest  of  the  family 
will  be  occupying  a  spot  under  the  warm 
dust  haze  down  below,  so  far  down  as  to  be 
practically  below  sea-level.  The  vicissitudes 
of  some  lives ! 


zinnias 
;  come 
g  soon 
ut  only 
:  family 
i  warm 
IS  to  be 
ssitudes 


